


Of Lifeguards and Water Polo

by WinterDreams



Series: Lifeguard Verse [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Lifeguards, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Water Polo, Bullying, Child/Teen Death, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Slow Build, also a bit of:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-03-07 18:18:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 287,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3178370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterDreams/pseuds/WinterDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tucker was pretty sure he was going to spend the rest of his life smelling like chlorine.</p><p> Modern AU in which the Reds and Blues are on really shitty water polo teams at the Blood Gulch Public Pool, the Freelancers are die-hard lifeguards that manage to do the stupidest shit at training, the AIs are the children in their private lessons, and Tucker may or may not be developing a crush on his crazy aquafit instructor turned self-declared water polo coach, David Washington. He’s also pretty sure their pool manager is breaking a shitload of regulations and safety guidelines when it comes to the lifeguards, but only time will tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> APM=assistant pool manager

Tucker was pretty sure he was going to spend the rest of his life smelling like chlorine. The smell clung to his pillow every night no matter how often he shampooed his hair. It snagged in his clothes like a million burs and refused to let go no matter how much he ran them through the wash. His skin was taking on the permanent look of a raisin and he was convinced he was going to start _sweating_ chlorine any day now.

The problem was the Blood Gulch Public Pool. Located at the corner of an intersection where the graffiti covered stop signs were carelessly ignored by every car, and squeezed between a coffee shop that looked to be made of steel and a drugstore whose lights only worked half of the time, the pool was a ten minute walk from Tucker’s apartment. The public pool was a twenty minute bus ride from the university campus, the campus that also had a pool which Tucker was now ignoring, despite the fact that it probably held itself to higher health standards and cleaner change rooms.

The building of Blood Gulch Pool itself had been erected long before Tucker had been born, and had a diving well and slide over top of the main pool, which was of questionable water quality. What the pool and facilities lacked in appearance, was made up by the pure intensity of the lifeguarding staff, who seemed to treat accident prevention and safety like it was their birthright destiny. Tucker thought to himself that these were the people would gladly enter themselves in the Lifeguarding Olympics competition, before proceeding to kick _everyone’s_ asses, despite the fact that most looked to be the same age as Tucker.

Tucker was at Blood Gulch Pool early in the morning before class for water polo practices all week, all day on weekends with Junior, and now he would be there for fucking aquafit thanks to his asshole friend.

“But seriously dude,” Tucker said as he slammed his locker shut.

Church already had his towel slung over his shoulder and looked impatient to head out onto the pool deck. Tucker couldn’t blame him given the change room’s permanent odour of sweaty feet mixed with acidic chemicals. Even Tucker didn’t trust the floor enough to ever walk barefoot in the change room, no matter how many times the staff claimed to clean it. It always looked grungy, though that could probably be blamed on the strands of hair he constantly spotted.

Tucker followed Church into the heat and echoing noises of the pool deck. The floor outside wasn’t much better than the locker room’s but at least all the puddles of pool water gave it the illusion of cleanliness. “Remind me again how this is supposed to help your and Tex’s whatever relationship?”

Aquafit. A forty-five minute session of aerobic exercise done in either the shallow or deep end of the pool as a form of resistance training. According to Church, it involved cardio exercises as well as exercises for the abs and arms. Given that they were going to be in the shallow water class, it also seemed like every day would be leg day.

“Like have you actually considered in what capacity this will do anything?” Tucker continued to complain as they dropped their towels onto one of the creaky benches and moved to the side of the pool.

“Holy shit, would you just shut up for one second?” Church demanded. He sent a furtive glance toward the lifeguard room, no doubt hoping to catch a glimpse of Tex on one of her fifteen minute breaks. Tucker watched Church’s shoulders slump a little when he saw she wasn’t there, and he supposed he should feel some sympathy for his friend. It was just difficult when Tucker was never sure what exactly Church’s relationship with Tex was.

Girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend? Sex buddy? Tucker had no fucking idea and sometimes he thought the other two didn’t either.

Whatever they were, they did seem to care at least a little bit so Tucker couldn’t completely fault his friend’s idiotic attempts to see more of her.

Though he had already voiced his opinion about getting closer to her at her new workplace several times only to have it fall on deaf ears.

“You said you wanted a better body for the ladies, anyways,” Church said, turning back around to face Tucker. They slipped into the water and Tucker grimaced–no heater despite the pool existing in the 21st century.

“I said I wanted a bit more sculpting of my already near perfect abs,” Tucker replied, ignoring his friend’s snort. “I really doubt jumping up and down in a pool is gonna help with that.”

“Tex said if you actually do the fucking drills and listen to the instructor, it will help.”

“Oh well if Tex fucking said so, it _must_ be true.”

An elderly lady nearby them gave them a glare, no doubt at their casual use of swears. Tucker was only concerned that Tex didn’t hear him and a furtive glance over his shoulder showed she was nowhere in sight. He was rather fond of his balls where they were, and he would hate to deprive everyone of such wonderful specimens.

They took a spot near the back, wrapping their arms around their midriffs and bouncing up and down on their toes in attempt to save what little body heat they could in the frigid water.

Some slow eighties tune suddenly crackled to life over the pool’s ancient speakers, and Tucker turned his attention to the green matt at the end of the shallow end where the instructor would stand.

The deck and pool area had been shaped like a normal rectangle with either widths flanked by walls of window. At the deep end stood a large diving well with diving boards as tall as ten feet, which Church always complained weren’t high enough. On the same side as the change room and hallway entrances stood the lifeguard room. It jutted out from the wall in a spacious square, doubling as the first aid room. From in the pool, one could catch a glimpse of long desk the lifeguards sat at behind the glass windows and door. Further in and out of sight were the cot, fridge, sink, and all other manner of lockers, first aid equipment and folders for lesson sheets.

On the wall opposite of the guardroom stood the orange nightmare given the creative title of “the Orange,” and was the Blood Gulch’s very own water slide. It circled around the grey pole supporting it twice before shooting into a small metal chute on the pool deck beside the middle tank. Large fans spun leisurely above their heads where the grey rafters intercrossed in a veritable jungleof steel.

“Alright everyone,” the loud voice of the aquafit instructor pulled Tucker’s attention back to his present. He turned with the rest of the class–all ladies old enough to be his great grandma, dear god was he going to kill Church–to face their instructor.

On second thought, maybe Tucker would buy Church a coffee and the super fudgy brownie from Mother of Invention after their session because at least he had chosen an aquafit with a pretty hot instructor.

The guy had to be close to Tucker’s age, with a smattering of freckles on his pale face. With the sunlight filtering through the window behind him, the guy’s blond hair looked like a halo (and would Church ever laugh his ass off if he ever heard Tucker say that out loud but hey, Tucker was a lover, not an original writer). The baggy shorts and lifeguard shirt left his muscled arms and legs on full display, and whenever he crossed his arms, the tight red tank top promised a tantalizing view beneath its fabric.

“It’s not Tex,” Church grumbled because of fucking course that’s all he cared about.

“Did you honestly think you would be that lucky?”

“Shut up, asshole.”

So yes.

“Hey, at least the guy’s hot,” Tucker pointed out, and Church shot him a withering look.

“Don’t get too hot and sweaty before the class has even started.”

“–Washington,” the instructor was saying. Tucker squinted at the strange name and assumed he’d missed the first name. The guy gave them all a smile that had Tucker blinking in the face of its apparent enthusiasm. “But most people call me Wash for short. Now, we’re going to get started with some simple jogging on the spot, nice and easy to start.”

“Tex say anything about this one?” Tucker asked as he began to run up and down on the spot in time with the music. Church shook his head.

“You know she hasn’t been working here that long. The only one she’s really mentioned so far is Carolina cuz she’s APM with her.”

Church turned to him with the biggest grin Tucker had seen since the text he got from Tex days ago. “You want me to see if he’s available to fuck?”

The lady in front of them spun around with a glare. Tucker wondered if she was the same lady from before.

“Please, I can get my own dates thank you very much.”

Church rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, okay. That’s why you haven’t had one in–what? Six months now?”

“Junior’s fucking exhausting okay?” Tucker said, and then winced a little at the harshness.

He loved his son more than anything else in his mediocre life, but that didn’t mean he never felt so exhausted he wanted to just sit down and cry. It usually happened at two in the morning when he was still doing his schoolwork and he realized in five hours he would have to get Junior up and ready for swimming lessons before Tucker spent the rest of the day with him. Tucker might only get custody on weekends, but those two days and nights were completely consumed by his kid’s presence, and it meant all his schoolwork and shifts needed to be completed during the week. Even pulling a part-time course load at the university and working part-time was hard. “Between class and work and making sure he’s okay–”

“I know, I know,” Church interrupted, but his tone was a little more gentle now. Living in the same apartment with Tucker meant he knew the most of anyone what Tucker dealt with, and he did his best to help when he could **.**

“Besides, you and Tex are hardly the fucking poster couple or whatever.” That earned a glare followed by a helpless smile at the truth of it.

“Whatever, like I’d want some boring fucking relationship like that.”

“Alright, we’re going to switch over to our cardio now,” Wash’s voice interrupted them, and shit, Tucker hadn’t even noticed when they’d switched between the different warm-up exercises. “Remember it’s important to always warm-up and cool-down so you don’t hurt any muscles. Now, the cardio exercises are going to alternate between slow and fast periods so make sure you’re paying attention.”

Tucker was fairly certain that last part was directed toward Church and him given they hadn’t been taking any care to lower their voices. “Remember to do your best to land on your heels so you don’t hurt your shins and calves. Alright, let’s start with some skiing, nice and slow to begin.”

Everyone moved to imitate Wash’s confidentmovements as he coached them through the exercises. Tucker and Church began making fun of each other over their earlier water polo practice, though Tucker was soon finding himself short of breath as sweat rolled down Wash’s neck. The music kept blaring and Wash’s voice raised to meet its volume, continuously telling them to move faster and harder.

“Christ, he’s aware this isn’t the fucking Olympics, right?” Tucker snapped to Church as he tucked his knees as high up to his chest as he could for the third minute in a row. He heard angry muttering from the ladies in front, something about the youth of the day, but given that had been their reaction to every swear word he’d dropped, he ignored them. “He’s sweating like crazy up there.”

“Well if he gives himself a fucking heart attack, there’s plenty of lifeguards around,” Church replied, and Tucker glanced over to the middle tank where some of them were guarding the diving well. Something about the way they carried themselves had him thinking they took everything as seriously as Wash. Or maybe it was just their association with Tex that gave him the thought.

Regardless, by the end of the forty-five minutes, Tucker cursed Wash and his constant “You Can Do It!” attitude that deafened Tucker more than the upbeat music. The group all began to edge toward the ladder as a group, all of the others giving the arguing Church and Tucker dirty looks as they filed out. Church heaved himself out and stood up, but Tucker flopped down on his belly, half-in and half-out of the water as he groaned dramatically.

“You’re trying to kill me, man,” Tucker told him as Church rolled his eyes at him. “Making me go to water polo _and_ this? Fuck you.”

“You’re starting to sound like fucking Grif.”

“I hope you’re less of an asshole when I die of chlorine poisoning and horrible shin splints.”

“Are you okay?”

Tucker’s eyes flew open and he lifted his forehead from where he’d been resting it against the dirty pool deck at the sound of their instructor’s voice. He stood above Tucker with a concerned look that melted into a thoroughly unimpressed expression the longer he studied Tucker’s uninjured body.

“Your workout killed me,” Tucker informed him. He tried tomould his face into a mask of pain like Junior always did, but judging by Wash’s raised eyebrows, the little kid did it much better. “You _are_ aware this is a public pool and not the goddamn army, right? I’m surprised half of those old ladies didn’t drop dead from a fucking heart attack with the way you were yelling at us and telling us to go harder. Bow chicka bow wow.”

He heard Church’s groan at Tucker’s obligatory catch phrase, but Wash’s face merely twisted in confusion.

“That pace was perfectly reasonable,” Wash argued. He crossed his arms across his chest and Tucker hated himself for paying so much attention to every movement. “Maybe if you spent less time swearing at each other and more time actually doing the exercises, you’d learn something and build up your stamina.”

Tucker’s jaw dropped open at that and Church started snickering behind them.

“Woah okay, asshole,” Tucker said. “Are you even allowed to say shit like that to a patron?”

“When the patron is acting inappropriately and causing distress to other patrons, like by swearing and using inappropriate phrases for a public and typically family-environment, yes, I am completely in my right to suggest you stop.”

Tucker wanted to stop gaping, but Wash’s cool attitude kept reminding him of Tex and the confident superiority in his tone cut down any of Tucker’s words before they could even leave his lips. “It is also in my right to tell you to stop and to ask you to leave the premises, especially if I have received multiple complaints from other patrons.”

“Holy shit, calm down dude–”

“Do I need to get my manager?” Wash cut him off. “Or are you going to act appropriately?”

“Is it Tex?” Church asked, straightening up at the mention of any manager. Tucker and Wash both blinked at the sudden eagerness in Church’s face before a scowl crossed Tucker’s face.

“Thanks for the help,” he hissed, but Church only had ears for Washington. The other man studied Tucker’s friend uncertainly, eyes snagging on the Blue’s water polo logo at the bottom of Church’s swim trunks.

“Are you Church?” Wash asked, and Church bobbed his head up and down. Now it was Tucker’s turn to roll his eyes as he pulled himself fully out of the water. Wash spared him a single glance before turning back to Church.

“Yeah, that’s me. This as-astounding guy is my friend, Tucker. Did Tex mention me?”

“Um–” Tucker stopped drying his dreads with his towel and stared in fascination as a slow blush as red as the lifeguard t-shirt he wore began to creep up Wash’s neck. “She might have said a few things about you.”

“Is she here? She uh, hasn’t told me her schedule but I figured I would surprise her if she was here.”

“No, sorry.” It was incredible how much younger Wash sounded when he wasn’t using what Tucker was officially dubbing his no nonsense lifeguarding voice. Like he was just some guy in Tucker’s class he could maybe goof around with and grab food with and throw pens at while they studied together

“She doesn’t work this early,” Wash told Church. “Carolina’s the APM right now.”

“Oh right. Well, thanks anyways.” If Tucker didn’t know this was all because Church wanted to know how Tex was doing, he would be suspicious at the sudden politeness lining his friend’s every word and action.

“No problem.” He gave them a smile, although it hardened at little when Tucker gave him the biggest shit-eating grin he could manage. “Have a good day. And remember what I said about inappropriate language next time you’re here.”

“Right,” Church replied, pushing Tucker toward the change room before he could get out any response liable to get them kicked out. Tucker let himself be manhandled by his shoulders until they were in the change room and the door enclosed their words within the mostly empty room.

“What a dick,” Tucker said, and swung open his locker so it clashed against the one beside it with a satisfying clang. “Like, has he not noticed that kids younger than ten drop the f-bomb regularly at this place?”

“You tell Junior not to.”

“That’s cuz Junior is five and would get in trouble with his teachers and he already gets enough fucking judgement thanks to his parents without the added swearing. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna start trying to parent the other brats that come here.”

“Yeah.”

Church’s voice was muffled by the locker he had stuck his head in as he tried to find his wallet in the mess of clothes that had been shoved inside. Tucker knew the guy was probably still thinking about Tex anyways, but he kept going.

“I don’t give a fuck if he is hotter and more toned than any university student or indoor lifeguard has the right to be, he is an asshole and I hate him. Also, if my calves hurt tomorrow, I’m drowning you and him.”

“That will be your fucking fault for not doing that heel thing or whatever.”

“Oh please, like you were actually listening. And it’s _landing_ on your heel, asshole.”

Church smirked at Tucker, stripping off his swimsuit without shame and tugging on his boxers. Tucker managed the task much less gracefully, hopping around as he tried to shove his leg through and then tried to pull his head through his sleeve when he moved onto his sweater. Fuck, and he still had an eight hour shift to work. God, he hated Thursdays.

“Whatever. Just don’t fucking skip polo practice. I am _not_ getting left alone with Caboose again. And Sarge got a new suit.”

“Oh fuck, is at another speedo?”

They slammed their lockers shut and flung their backpacks over their shoulders.

“Of course it’s another fucking speedo, what else would it be? And you know he’s going to have the team logo across his ass.”

“Oh god,” Tucker groaned as they exited the rooms and stepped into a lobby smaller than the guard room. There were stains on the wall that Tucker never wanted to examine too closely and the bored looking cashier didn’t even glance up from his laptop as they left the building. “Remind me to bring brain bleach with me to practice.”

Church just grinned at him

“Way ahead of you, asshole.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Everyone should go say hi to my very talented beta who helped me brainstorm so many of these ideas, and whose art inspired me to actually put those ideas into fic form. Her art blog is http://texcarolina.tumblr.com/
> 
> EDIT: There is now this awesome piece of art for this chapter, (Tucker and Church in the locker rooms), http://strategos-six.tumblr.com/post/129247161055/tucker-was-pretty-sure-he-was-going-to-spend-the
> 
> Tucker/Wash's developing relationship will be the main focus in terms of relationships but all the other ships receive their own storyline and segments of later chapters. The relationship between the lifeguards and the AI children is also a main driving force in terms of the relationships in this story. The majority of the Red vs Blue characters are in this, and the Chorus gang will show up in the later chapters. 
> 
> The slide at a pool in my town is purple and called “the Grapevine” so you can blame that (and the Freelancers’ lack of creativity” for the horrible slide name. Unfortunately, I am just as horrible with names, so I apologize for the title.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tucker’s calves were trying to commit suicide and he was very tempted to put them out of their misery by never moving from his bed again.

Tucker’s calves were trying to commit suicide and he was very tempted to put them out of their misery by never moving from his bed again. Unfortunately, Church didn’t approve of said plan, and wouldn’t stop banging on Tucker’s door until he got up. When that didn’t work, he shoved Tucker’s door open before ripping the blankets off of Tucker’s prone form.

“Fuck off,” Tucker groaned. He cracked his eyes open and glared at his friend. Only tendrils of the predawn light managed to pry their way past Tucker’s heavy curtains, but Tucker could still make out the way Church had his arms crossed over his chest.

“We have practice in half an hour, dipshit.”

“Leave me and my glorious calves to _die_.”

Church didn’t even respond to the last one, just stormed back into their tiny living room apparently satisfied that Tucker was conscious. Tucker considered staying in bed just to spite him, but he could smell the coffee brewing in their kitchen and Church was liable to come back in and dump water on Tucker’s head if he was in a bad mood. Which seemed to be his default state at the moment, and changing his sheets was always a pain in the ass.

Tucker dragged himself from the warmth of his bed and regretted the decision as soon as his feet touched the ground and gravity forced his calves to support his body weight. He told Church as much, and then continued to complain the entire walk to the pool.

“Seriously, what was that about landing on your heels again, Tucker?” Church asked with a smirk when they entered the lobby of the pool.

The cashier glanced up at them with bleary eyes, pushing a hand through his spiky brown hair with a yawn as he nodded them through. At 6:50 in the morning, the roads to the pool had been empty except for the odd dog owner walking their abnormally hyper animal. The inside of Blood Gulch possessed a very similar atmosphere to the sleepy air that smothered the outside world.No echoes of screaming children or splashing water snuck through the cracks to the lobby or change room.

“Shut up, asshole. This is your fault.”

“What’s Church’s fault?” The bright voice of Simmons greeted them as they arrived in the men’s change room. The room itself was a simple rectangle split in the middle by a row of lockers. There were benches on either side of those lockers, and more lockers along the grey walls. Church tossed his bag onto the bench on the left where Simmons hovered over his own red backpack.

“Everything,” Tucker replied as he opened a locker. He winced at the odour of rotten fruit, though nothing could be seen when Tucker peered in. He shut the door and moved on to one that smelled a little less like decay before shoving his sneakers and socks inside.

“Tucker’s being a whiny bitch because I made him go to aquafit yesterday and now his poor baby feet hurt.”

“Isn’t that what all the old ladies do?”

Tucker looked up as Grif came around the other side of the lockers. Simmons stared with pursed lips at the bag of Doritos in his teammate’s hand as Grif munched happily on them.

“At least they move faster than you, fatass,” Tucker replied.

“You realize you’re supposed to wait at least an hour after eating before you go swimming,” Simmons said as Tucker hurried to pull off his clothes and put his speedo and water polo cap on.

“That is totally a myth.”

“Pretty sure it’s a myth that you’ll drown, but you’ll probably get cramps,” Tucker offered, and Church snickered.

“That would imply Grif actually _did_ something in the pool,” Church said, and Grif offered the other man a smirk.

“You get all that water out of your lungs yet, Church?” he asked, and now it was the others’ turn to snicker. During their daily scrimmage the other day, Grif had nearly drowned the skinnier man when they’d scrambled for the ball.

“That doesn’t count as movement, all you did was fucking lie on me,” Church snapped, and Grif shrugged.

“Hey, it worked.”

“You are disgusting,” Simmons said with a shake of his head as Grif licked the orange dust off his fingers. He glanced at the waterproof watch around his pale wrist before grabbing his towel and starting toward the door. “If you don’t want Sarge to yell at you this early, we need to go.”

“Calm down, kiss ass, it’s only 7 now.”

“And he wants us in the pool five minutes beforehand,” Simmons called over his shoulder. “I’m _not_ doing extra laps because of you.”

“I didn’t realize Grif ever did _any_ laps,” Church said as he crammed the blue water polo cap on his head.

Tucker still struggled with his, scowling at the dreads that refused to cooperate. When Church glanced over, he rolled his eyes and Tucker heard a muttered, “Jesus Christ.” Tucker stuck his tongue out in a display of his university level maturity before finally deciding to simply leave the cap for the moment and put it on when they got closer to the pool.

“Hey,” Grif called out. Simmons jerked his head around as Grif tossed a bottle through the air, plastic crinkling when Simmons’ long fingers fumbled to catch it. The chubbier man grabbed his own towel before slowly joining his teammate with a grin. “Don’t forget your water in your rush to be such a god damn kiss ass.”

“Fatass,” Simmons replied, but Tucker saw the spots of red forming on his cheeks.

Tucker didn’t even have to watch them to know Grif would knock Simmons’ shoulder before the two would exit with their bickering filling the hot air between them. At least half of the mornings per week, Simmons forgot to bring his water bottle onto the deck in his hurry, and every time Grif got it for him. They both had the same reaction _every. God. Damn. Time._

“Please tell me those two have fucking agreed to married now,” Tucker asked Church who glared at his own water bottle like it had done something to personally offend him.

Church just ignored the question, shoving his stuff in the locker before locking it and leaving. Tucker followed closely on his heels after sparing his own locker a single glance over his shoulder. “Fucking? They have to at least be fucking by now.”

“Gee, Tucker, why don’t you ask them if you’re so god damn concerned? Why the fuck do you think I would know?”

“Church!” Tucker and Church winced at the volume of the shout that came from the diving well of the pool. They looked over to see Caboose already in the pool, blond hair plastered to his head as he waved at them eagerly. “Church! I saved you a spot!”

“It’s not a god damn classroom, Caboose,” Church shouted back. They dropped their towels and water bottles on the benches by the pools before moving toward the diving well. “We have half the tank booked.”

Tucker ignored both of them and sidled over to where Grif slowly eased himself into the water. Simmons was already halfway across the pool, easily pulling himself through the water toward Sarge. The older man watched all of them with a permanent scowl, arms crossed over his naked chest and eyes glaring from beneath his bright red cap. Tucker tried very hard not to look at his tiny speedo, though it was hard when the fabric was also as red as a fire truck.

“So are you and Simmons married yet or what?” Tucker asked Grif from the pool deck. The man squinted up at him from where he clutched the side of the pool.

“First of all, we’re still in university. Se–”

“So?”

“So we’re only twenty-two.”

“So?”

“So how’s your love life going, Tucker?”

“Ask your sister. Bow chicka bow–”

Tucker’s manly shriek swallowed the rest of his words as Grif grabbed his ankle and dragged him into the pool. When Tucker resurfaced with a lot of spluttering and swearing, he looked up through dripping dreads to see Wash staring down at him.

“You’re on the water polo team,” Wash said before Tucker could get a single word out. Wash stared at him like he was a really confusing math problem Wash had just spent the last two hours trying to solve with little success.

“Uh yeah.”

“Then _why_ were you complaining about my aquafit so much? Water polo is much more intense!”

“Oh whoa, I’m sorry, you thought we actually did drills?” Granted, they had only started practicing at Blood Gulch specifically that week but if Wash worked mornings, Tucker was surprised he hadn’t recognized Tucker in the aquafit. “Fuck no, Church is team captain and like sometimes we do laps or throw the ball but mostly we just scrimmage and suck.”

“That’s probably why the university pool kicked us out,” Grif added. “They wanted to conserve the space for more ‘serious players’ or whatever.”

“Grif!” Wash closed his mouth at Sarge’s sudden shout and they all turned to where the Reds captain stood on the pool side. “Get your lazy ass away from that dirty Blue and to the practice on the double!”

Grif groaned and with one last glare at the snickering Tucker, began to slowly swim across the pool. Sarge continued to yell at him, switching to criticizing his lazy breaststroke when Grif took more than two minutes to get over. Tucker turned back to Wash with a grin, though it faltered a little at the sight of the shadows beneath the lifeguard’s eyes.

“You gonna say anything about _his_ swearing?” Tucker asked, and Wash’s face tightened.

“That’s Carolina’s job,” Wash said. “Have a good practice, Tucker. Don’t work those calves too hard.”

With a perfectly neutral expression, Wash turned and strode toward the middle tank where a guard stood over the lane swimmers. Tucker gaped after him for a second, desperately searching through his memories of the lobby that morning for any glimpse of Wash. He watched as Wash greeted the other guard who headed back to the guard room.

“You’re a dick!” Tucker shouted at Wash. He didn’t move his gaze away from the pool he guarded and before Tucker could say anything else, Church’s yelling pulled his attention back to his team.

Silence except for the splashing as arms and legs hit the water came from the middle tank after that. In the diving well, the Reds and Blues kept up a steady stream of loud, and judging from the occasional look Wash shot them, obnoxious chatter and swearing at each other. Church tried to get both Caboose and Tucker to do some warm-up laps, Sarge struggling to do the same with the Reds at the other end of the pool. Tucker did a few half-hearted ones while Caboose splashed about while trying his best to draw Church into a conversation. It didn’t take long for Church to give up the warm-up and cardio drills, allowing them to grab the water polo balls and medicine balls to practice their passing and shots.

This only succeeded in making Tucker choke on and swallow several mouthfuls of water in his laughter at Church’s complete inability to aim when passing the ball.

“I said to _me_ , asshole, not the fucking Reds.”

“Just swim to the damn ball, Tucker, it’s not that far from you.”

Tucker rolled his eyes before pulling himself to the ball and tossing it to the eager Caboose. He squinted as he glanced at the growing light through the massive windows. He could see the wide parking lot that remained as near empty as it had when Tucker and Church first arrived. He recognized Sarge’s blue minivan and the black Ferrari of the APM, Carolina. He assumed the only other car in sight belonged to the lone lane swimmer. The drugstore, Sidewinder, wouldn’t open until eight, and all the coffee shop’s customers that went this early never drove.

Wash had come back up for his second round at guarding the lane swim. His partner lifeguard headed back to the guard room and his book, pale hair sticking up at every angle possible.

“What’s up, assholes?” The sudden female scream echoed in the quiet building and everyone looked up at the human shaped blur streaking across the deck.

“No running!” Wash’s loud shout rivalled the girl’s in its volume, and Kaikaina skidded to a halt within a few feet of the diving well. Her long hair swung through the air as she whipped her head around to stare at Wash.

“What are you, the pool police?” she yelled at him and Tucker swore he could see Wash’s mouth dropping open from where Tucker treaded in the water.

“Yeah, kind of,” Wash replied after a beat of silence.

“Well why don’t you deal with a real crime scene then?” She turned back to the water and Tucker hastily swam away at the grin on her face. She launched herself into the air, screaming as she went, “Caaaaaaahp!”

The cannonball sent water slapping at Tucker’s face and ripples lapping at his bare chest. Tucker laughed at both the scowl on Wash’s face and Kaikaina’s cheer while he could hear Grif swearing at his sister in the background. She let the water spout from her mouth when she came back to the surface, offering Tucker and Church a wide smile.

“Hey, baby,” Tucker said with a wink.

“Hey, asshole,” Kaikana replied, and offered him the middle finger. “We scrimmaging yet?”

“You’re more than half an hour late, Kai,” Church scowled at her.

“I would have been here earlier, but you know how early you have to book a ticket for the midnight, naked skydiving, and the amount of other people trying to get on kept crashing the server.”

“Yeah, okay,” Church said with a nod, and then frowned. “No wait, what?”

But Kaikaina had already turned away, focusing her attention on Sarge and the arguing Red team.

“Oi, old man,” she shouted at Sarge who whirled around to glare.

“Whattaya want, Blue?”

“Scrimmage time!”

Sarge frowned, consideration crossing his features as he glanced at his players. A maniacal grin lit up his face.

“Well if you Blues are so eager to have your asses whooped,we’d be more than happy to help you out,” he called out. “Simmons! Dirtbag! Into positions!”

They complied after much groaning on Grif’s part, and Church called similar instructions to the Blues. Kaikaina eagerly shouted she would be hole set while Caboose swam back to the net to play goalie. Both Tucker and Church readied themselves as drivers. On the Red team, Grif called hole set with a glance at his sister. Sarge and Lopez were on perimeter, with Donut as their goalie. Simmons played more defensively, but switched constantly between offense and defense.

“How about you actually score for us this time, asshole,” Tucker called to Church.

“How about you actually pull your weight this time and do the same thing?”

The game was awful to put it simply. Kaikaina scored the most goals for the Blues as usual, and in a turn of events that Tucker found shocking no matter _how_ many times it happened, Grif scored the most for the Red team. Tucker had to give it to the lazy man–he may hate effort, but he had a powerful shot, and all he needed to do was grab a Blue player to practically drown them and get the ball from them. But he only wanted to play hole set and defense whenever Kaikaina played the same position for the Blues, sibling rivalry the only motivation strong enough to make him swim up and down the pool. The other half of the time when Kaikaina simply didn’t show up, Grif was the first to call playing goalie for the Reds.

The fact that none of them could really dribble worth a damn and were exhausted after two or three laps put a damper on all of it, though. And Tucker might have a decent shot if he did say so himself, but given that his teammates couldn’t pass to each other and had horrible blocking abilities, none of it really mattered.

By the time 8:30 rolled around, the only ones with energy left were Kaikaina and Sarge who were loudly arguing about who had won with Church doing his best to support Kaikaina. Grif spoke to Simmons in the far corner, no doubt saving his conversation with Kaikaina about the game for their ride to school.

“It was a _tie_ ,” Kaikaina snapped at the older man. Tucker sat on at the edge of the pool with a smirk, legs swinging back and forth in the clear water. “We got two points and you got two points. Which is as pathetic as the number of tequila shots Volleyball and Jensen had last night, especially since they wouldn’t even do body shots off of tattoo man.”

“Yeah,” Church agreed before glancing over at her. “Wait what?”

“That may be true, but you Blues ran out of polo balls to use first. Which means you were the ones who couldn’t continue to play the game. Which means you surrendered to us and we win!”

“That has nothing to do with the fact that it was still technically a _tie_ ,” Church screeched, and Tucker winced a little at his friend’sslippage into the next vocal range.

“Technically that was all Church’s fault, so I don’t think the rest of us Blues should be penalized for that,” Tucker called over to them and felt his smirk widen at Church’s sudden glare.

“Shut the fuck up, Tucker.”

“Are all your practices like this?” Tucker’s gaze shot up at the sound of Wash’s unimpressed voice. The lifeguard stood above him with his hands shoved into the pockets of his black shorts and Tucker scrambled to his feet. The other man still stood taller than him, but only by a couple inches.

“What, did you not believe me when I said we sucked?”

“I’ve known you for less than a day and I already know you tend to exaggerate, so yeah.”

“Man, I know we’ve only been practicing here a week, but you would think you’d fucking notice our skill level in that time.”

Wash went still, face tightening in the way Simmons’ sometimes did whenever his dad was brought up or Church’s whenever someone asked him about his life before university.

“I just started working day time this week,” Wash finally said. “I used to only work a few hours in the evenings. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go get ready for my aquafit.”

“You prepare two and a half hours beforehand? Shit, I knew you were hardcore but–”

“I have one at nine as well,” Wash interrupted him, and Tucker blinked.

“You have two in one morning?”

Tucker swore he could see the faint outline of a smile on Wash’s face before he shrugged and began to walk back to the guardroom. Church materialized at Tucker’s side a moment later, grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet. He jerked his arm away but followed his friend toward the change room nonetheless.

“C’mon,” Church said. “I wanna study a bit before aquafit.”

“Are you seriously sticking with that?”

Church didn’t say anything, busying himself with his bag. When he looked up and saw Tucker standing in the same position and staring at him expectantly, he scowled.

“Tex bet I couldn’t keep stay committed to it,” he finally mumbled, staring at his goggles instead of Tucker’s wide eyes.

“ _That’s_ why you’re doing it? Jesus, you must have really pissed her off if you’re agreeing to that.”

Church’s scowl deepened but Tucker wasn’t ready to provide sympathy yet. “Is it some kind of punishment? Some kind of messed up commitment test?”

“Do you really think Tex would do that?”

“I’m pretty sure she takes some degree of pleasure in our pain, yeah,” Tucker said, before waving his hands in front of him at the sight of Church’s face. “I mean, not like serious emotional pain on your part or whatever but dude, you gotta admit she seems to enjoy beating the shit out of people in boxing.”

“Every boxer does that.”

“Dude.” Tucker tossed his cap onto the bench and began pulling out dry clothes. “She is terrifying, okay? I think you have a fetish. A very, very scary fetish.”

Church seemed to consider Tucker’s words for a moment. He didn’t say anything as he put on his shirt and shorts, stuffing the wet speedo, swim cap, and towel into a plastic bag in his backpack.

“Yeah maybe,” he finally said. “You’re still fucking coming, though.”

“Dude, what the fuck?”

Church just stared at him, waiting for Tucker to finish getting changed and put his stuff away. Grumbling the whole time, Tucker put everything away except for his wallet, knowing Church would insist Tucker be the one to buy something at Mother of Invention so they could claim a table to study at. Stupid employee discounts.

“And we’ll have to start going to the nine am one at least Monday to Wednesday since my classes start at 10:30 those days,” Church said as they stepped into the chilly fall air. Church offered him a slow smile. “But don’t worry, I heard Wash telling you he teaches that one too.”

“I fucking hate you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos on the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed this one, too. Next one will center on the Freelancers but it will probably take me a week to get it up because of school.
> 
> Water polo positions:
> 
> Hole set: They are positioned directly in front of the goal and need to have a good shot as well as be ready to pass to the perimeter players. Will often also switch to playing hole defense when the opposite team has the ball
> 
> Perimeter players/drivers: They are positioned around the goal in a semi-circle position; they are the wings, flats, and the point. Responsible for setting up goals and scoring. Will pair up with a player on the opposing team to defend.
> 
> Goalie: Blocking goal for the majority of game. Must have a good block, be able to steal ball from others, and have a long, accurate throw to pass the ball to other players. 
> 
> Info about water polo from my beta who played on a team herself and the Internet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the lifeguarding staff and their asshole boss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In-service: period of time where employees are trained and review any issues of their work  
> Sits: situations where fake emergencies occur and lifeguards must respond  
> BA: building attendant  
> Rec swim: recreational swim

“Rec swim is over in five minutes!”

Wash watched from the guard room as the patrons slowly began to climb from the pool and others moved the toys to the side while South and Maine remained on deck. Inside the guard room, York perched on top of the desk with his back resting against the metal frame while Wash tapped his notebook with his pen. The rest of the guards who had been working the rec swim were spread throughout the room as those who hadn’t slowly began to filter into the room. Carolina tapped away at the computer, North frowned as he played Angry Birds on his phone, and Florida hummed a cheerful tune as he washed some dishes in their sink.

Tex strode into the room with a gym bag swung over her shoulder and flip-flops for the pool deck dangling from her fingers. Wyoming entered with a smile and new joke for everyone. And Connie burst in with a scowl, strands of brown slipping from her ponytail and her Blackberry vibrating continuously in her hand. She headed straight to the slightly alarmed Wash, throwing herself up onto the desk in front of him while York scrambled to pull his legs into his chest before she squashed them.

“Rough day?” Wash asked as he closed his notebook.

“Shouldn’t you be taking a nap instead of studying?” Connie asked him instead. “You’ve got a two hour break and Maine can’t take the cot cuz he’s working.”

Wash shrugged.

“I’m not tired yet,” he told her. “And I might as well get it done before the weekend if I can.”

“You know our Wash,” York cut in with a teasing smile beginning to tug at his lips. “He has to have his weekends free for all fifty cats.”

“Not tomorrow,” North called. He glanced up from his phone, Wyoming towering over top of him as Wyoming shoved his stuff into his locker. “Staff party. Even Tex is coming, right, Tex?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Wash saw Carolina’s fingers pause above the black keys and York fidget. Tex looked over from where she had been speaking with Florida and offered them a lazy smirk.

“Maybe,” she replied.

“Come on, you know you want to see it all for yourself. South’s videos just don’t do them justice.”

“I told her to delete those,” York muttered, and Wash gave his knee a sympathetic pat before he turned his attention back to Connie.

“Seriously, Connie,” he said. He tried to keep his voice lower, and shot York a grateful look when he seemed to take the hint and wandered over to Carolina. “Is everything alright?”

“Well I’m at the in-service, aren’t I?” He blinked. “There’s your answer.”

“They’re not _that_ ba–”

“Will the Director be here for today’s in-service?” Connie raised her voice, swivelling in her seat to direct her question at both Tex and Carolina. Both women answered in the affirmative at the same time and Connie turned back around to give Wash a raised eyebrow.

“Okay, so it’s going to be a bit intense, but it’s nothing we can’t–”

The door banged open before he could finish and their owner and pool manager, the Director, marched into the room. Despite the pool’s sweltering heat and decaying appearance, the man always wore a grey suit and kept his black hair perfectly combed. Wash saw Connie’s expression go blank and the others all shifted their attention to his figure immediately. North pocketed his phone, Florida paused in his washing, and Carolina’s entire posture shifted into that of a soldier before her commanding officer.

“I want everyone ready on the deck in five minutes,” he told them without any further greeting. “We’re starting with sits.”

Without another word, he strode onto the pool deck where South and Maine were herding everyone into the change rooms. Carolina followed him out while the rest of the guards shuffled into action, shoving their clothes and guard shirts into bags and grabbing goggles and towels in return. A scowl slashed across Connie’s face as if someone had drawn it on with permanent marker, no words from Wash able to wipe it clean. She walked with him out onto the deck where they waited for the Director to begin the in-service.

 _Just two hours_ , Wash reminded himself as he had Connie on the way out. Two hours and he was free to go home where the only expectations of him came from furry creatures who simply needed food and a bit of affection. They would be content to curl up beside him rather than keep him from his sleep.

“Teams of three,” the Director said. “Wash, Connie, and Florida. Tex, North, and South. York, Wyoming, and Maine. Carolina, you’ll be a back-up guard for every round. Florida’s group up first.”

Wash’s group all nodded and moved down to the diving well where they would be unable to hear the Director instructing the others on what injuries to pretend to have. Wash’s only concern was having Maine be chosen as any form of an unconscious or drowning victim. The man was all bulk, and the only two capable of forcing his shoulders into the appropriate position for a spinal roll and then holding them there were Tex and Carolina. It took both of them to lift the man out of the pool, too. Every member of Wash’s group would have to be a part of the removal process if they got him.

“So how are we all doing today?” Florida asked as they waited for the Director to finish giving the others instructions.

The cheer in his voice made him sound as if he stood in a warm spa after a fresh cup of coffee rather than dripping wet on the deck of a pool in the middle of the afternoon. Before Wash could respond, Connie turned to the older man with narrowed eyes, the shadow of her scowl still darkening her face.

“Florida, don’t you get tired of being here after so many years? Why not find another job?”

Wash knew all of them wondered why the older man remained at such a low paying job with his three science degrees and the grey strands beginning to streak his hair.

“But then I wouldn’t get to chat with you lovely young rascals,” he replied while beaming at them. Connie’s frown deepened, but Florida continued before she could decide on any verbal response. “You’re both still in school–kinesiology, wasn’t it, Wash?”

“Yeah, but I’m only part-time this year.”

“Semester started off well enough?” Florida asked, and Wash felt a bubble of relief expand in his chest at Florida’s lack of question over his part-time status.

“Yeah, my profs seem enthusiastic.”

“And you, Connie? How was that trip this summer?”

He kept up a stream of chatter until their group was waved back over and the others began to jump into the pool. Connie and Wash took the middle tank while Florida moved to the diving well. Carolina rested against the wall of the guard room, gaze flicking constantly from person to person. Within thirty seconds, it had begun.

Every group had to deal with a spinal in every round of situations, as well as some form of submerged and some form of a drowning non-swimmer. At one point, Wash played the part of an unconscious victim who had stopped breathing, and he suffered through two minutes of South humming “Another One Bites the Dust” as she pretended to do compressions on him.

“Really, South?” Carolina asked from where she stood behind them. The Director remained further away, close enough to see but not close enough to hear their whispers at each other.

“Oh come on, it’s funny,” South said, and went back to performing her compressions to the beat of the song. At least she didn’t sing it as she had when the Director left in-services in Carolina or Tex’s hands, though Wash was still grateful when she finally stopped.

An endless supply of fake blood painted half of their bodies by the end and only Florida could remain cheerful in the face of using the fake vomit that held the texture of oatmeal and tasted like cough syrup. After an hour of climbing back and forth from the pool water, goose bumps covered Wash’s skin and rainbows were beginning to form around the lights glaring down at them.

 “Physical standards,” the Director said. The only emotion Wash could detect in his voice was the smallest hints of impatience, and Connie stiffened beside him from where she’d been squeezing the water out of her hair. “Starting with endurance. I want 24 laps in 10 minutes.”

And so it continued. They did their endurance swim, followed by sprints, followed by carries, then spinals, and submerged victims. After the carry of an unconscious victim, each of them had to do ten minutes of CPR as if waiting for an ambulance to arrive. Throughout it all, Wash watched Connie grow more and more frustrated, whether with the drills themselves or her lack of success. She had fumbled in the sits, forgetting small details of the first aid treatment that anyone but the Director would have simply given them all a reminder about at the end of the in-service. For the Director, a single exclusion meant harsh words singling one person out at the end of the situation. The physical standards were completed to the necessary requirement, but she lagged and Wash knew her performance lacked its regular drive.

Finally there came the bricks.

“Two 20 pounders at once,” the Director called to them as Carolina and Tex tossed the yellow objects into the water in the diving well. “Maine, you know it’s 50 for you.”

The man simply grunted. With a hopeful look at the clock and its promise of an end in ten minutes, they began to dive into the water. All resurfaced with the bricks and hoisted them onto the side.

All except for Connie.

Wash sat on the side as it happened, but he could see the yellow objects clutched in both her hands as she neared the surface. Her head broke through, but water instead of air greeted her great inhale. Wash saw one of the bricks slip from her hand as she choked and coughed on the liquid, body heaving forward as its defenses violently expelled the poison attempting to infiltrate the lungs. The Director watched with a blank expression and crossed arms as she finally caught her breath and brought the brick she’d managed to hold onto over to the side.

“I think it would be best if you take the night off, CT, as you’re clearly not feeling well,” the Director told her. He towered over her from the bulkheads, making no effort to crouch down to her level or lower his voice. “Texas will cover your lessons for the night.”

Connie didn’t say a word in reply, simply dove underwater and swam to the opposite side.

“We’re done for today,” the Director said to the rest of them. “I expect you to all to conduct your first day of lessons smoothly and the appropriate paperwork to be given to the deck supervisors.”

With a nod to Carolina and Tex, he headed toward the hallway exit. Before the others could begin a conversation, Wash ran after Connie as she pulled herself from the deck and stormed toward the guard room.

“Connie–” Wash began, hovering on the very edge of the room as the door eased shut behind him. He watched as she ripped off her goggles and tossed them at her backpack without looking at him. “It–”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Connie snapped at him.

She whirled around, spots of red on her pale cheeks and brown hair still dripping pool water. If had been Tex or Carolina, he would have stopped. He would have walked right back out and gotten one of the guards who knew them better.

But he had met Connie in the very first week of university, overwhelmed by the mass of people all lost in the delirium of possibility. Connie still messaged him after that first week, met with him for coffees and study sessions, party nights and movie nights. He had seen her bent over a table in the library with tears streaming down her face as she clutched at her stomach and shook from helpless laughter. And he had seen her with mascara running down her cheeks, hair torn from its clips and huddling on a bare floor as her stress and grief forced cracks into her low voice.

“It’s okay, Connie. So you had one bad in-service–everyone has bad days. Besides, Florida and I screwed up during that spinal situation and–”

“ _You_ didn’t drop that stupid brick,” Connie interrupted him. “ _You_ didn’t get your shift taken away. And don’t try and tell me everyone has bad days when Carolina and Tex are standing right outside.”

She turned away from him, grabbing at her towel where it hung from a locker. Her hand curled around the metal briefly before she shoved herself away, whirling herself back around so Wash could see her face.

“God, I am so _sick_ of this,” she snapped, and Wash took a step forward.

“I know the trainings can be tough–”

“This isn’t fucking training, Wash. This is over the top, sadistic testing to see who gets a shred of accommodation and who deserves to be treated like trash. ”

“How can you say that after everything the Director has given us?”

For a moment her expression softened at the memory threaded through each of his words, for she had been there that day. She had been the only other guard there the day the call and emails came through and Wash had stared at his phone as he fought the urge to puke all over the tiled floor. She had been there as he explained through a too tight chest what had happened, and begun to panic about money and school and having to find another job.

She had been there when the Director overheard and gave Wash an offer.

“For you, Wash,” Connie corrected before her expression turned as hard as the bricks they’d just carried. “And he didn’t fucking do it out of the kindness of his heart or because he actually respects us. You heard him, you improved your scores during these shit shows and you’ve listened to him. That’s the only reason he lets anyone work daytime or shifts they want.”

She glanced out the guardroom windows. “There’s something wrong with him.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He doesn’t see us as people. He just sees us as things to get a job done, and it’s not just guarding some rundown pool.”

“Jesus, will you listen to yourself?”

“You should listen to the conversations he has with Carolina! Or just look at the way he’s treated her ever since Tex showed up. Haven’t you noticed how he always makes a point to compliment one of them while the other is right there? Or the way he acts like one slip up here will fuck up our lives, especially Carolina’s, forever? We are _nothing_ to him, Wash.”

“Connie–”

“Just drop it,” she said, shaking her head. She shoved her towel into her bag and then began to zip it up. “I’m done talking about it now.”

The bag thumped against her back as she slung a strap over her shoulder. Wash simply stood there, hands dangling uselessly at his side. She spared him a glance as she began to walk away.

“And stop calling me Connie.  Everybody else here calls me CT and Connie just sounds fucking childish.”

With that, she left the room, letting the door slam shut behind her. Wash didn’t even have time to let her words sink in before he heard the door leading to the deck slowly open with a whoosh of air. York stuck his head inside.

“Hey, uh, everything alright?” York asked, and Wash slowly turned to him. “She gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” Wash finally decided to say. While he trusted and liked York, he didn’t want to get into Connie’s issues about work with another co-worker. Not without Connie’s permission and not when the words were still intangible syllables bouncing inside his head, not yet sinking into the mass of his brain and departing the imprints of their meaning.

“Okay well, the others were going to get Maine jump off the diving board with a bunch of aquafit noodles around him if you wanted to watch. Director’s definitely gone for the day, according to Carolina.”

Wash shook his head as the small smile began to insist on making its presence known. He spared another look for the door Connie had disappeared through, but for the moment, he let himself be carried along by the others’ antics. He could think about all she had said when he got home. After he ate. And finished his homework. And he really hadn’t slept as much as he should have last night so maybe–

York suddenly clapped a hand on Wash’s shoulder, startling out of his thoughts.

“Come on, she’ll be fine,” York told him. “All the girls here know how to take care of themselves.”

“And what about us?” Wash teased.

“Well, I’m pretty sure they could at least eat _you_ alive. I might last–oh, thirty seconds more?”

“I’ll be sure to pass that message along to Carolina.” York groaned as Wash followed him out of the guardroom.

“Please don’t. I still haven’t recovered from going against her in Buddy Up, Buddy Down.”

They reached the diving well where Carolina and South were prodding Maine up to tallest diving board. North and Tex remained by the foot of the stairs, and Wash had to respect the man’s ability to remain persistent even in the face of Tex as Wash overheard him once again bringing up the staff party.

“It’s probably a no this time, North,” Tex said as the other two reached them. “Church wanted to see me.”

“Bring him along,” York suggested, and Tex glanced over at them. The corners of her lips turned upwards, but she shook her head.

“As much as I love traumatizing him, I’m not sure that’s the best idea right now.”

“We’ll be on our best behaviour,” North insisted, and Wash snorted.

“There is no best behaviour for you guys at a staff party.”

“Just because _York_ couldn’t hold his drink–”

“How was I supposed to know the rookie _and_ our BA were seasoned drinkers?”

“You’re just a lightweight, York,” Carolina suddenly called down to them, and he grinned up at her. Three aquafit belts had already been wrapped around the bulky Maine, and South struggled to wrap a fourth below his waist as he glared at the water below.

“Maybe next time,” Tex cut off their bickering before any of them could lose themselves in it. “For now, he stays absent.”

Her gaze suddenly focused on Wash and the younger guard felt an instinctive urge to step back under the weight of it. “He show up for aquafit again today?”

“Uh, yeah. Him and Tucker.” He received a smile in response. “They were at water polo before that.”

“What did you think?”

“Um–”

In a lot of ways, Wash could see similarities between Tex and Carolina, not that anyone on the staff thought to make that comparison verbal. Well, maybe York, but given the way Carolina seemed to return some part of his dopey crush on her, he was probably the only one who wouldn’t get pushed into the pool while guarding for it. But at least with Carolina, Wash had worked with her long enough during evening swims to have normal conversations with her.

Tex, on the other hand, was new and all Wash knew for certain about her was she could crush his balls in the time it took him to blink. And while she might swear about Church around them, it didn’t mean she would forgive others insulting him.

“They fucking sucked, didn’t they?” she said, grin widening at whatever expression twisted his face.

“Yeah.”

“Oh man, Wash was so frustrated about that this morning,” North added, and Wash scowled a little at the mirth in his voice.

“Because they don’t _try_ and they could actually be okay if they did,” Wash insisted.

The smile on Tex’s face began to shift into some other sentiment, but Wash remained too caught up in memories of that morning and Tucker’s loud voice during aquafit to pay her close attention. “They refused to do any of the basic drills that could help them but then Tucker complained about how hard aquafit was, of all things. And I watched their scrimmage and some of them had some good shots and good blocks but they just give up–”

“Man, you’re getting as riled up as you do about hockey,” York observed as North looked on in amusement, and Wash felt his face heat up. But when he met Tex’s gaze, he found thoughtfulness had softened some of the edges in her expression and cut the wires that always pulled her shoulders so straight.

“Interesting,” she said. Within seconds, the feline grace and confident grin of a predator returned to her presence. “Maybe I should join them and show them how it’s actually done.”

“You just want an excuse to beat them up,” North said, though he didn’t seem concerned and Tex simply shrugged.

“Who’s beating who up and where do I place a bet?”

Wash turned as their building attendant, a Filipino woman who only went by the nickname Four Seven Niner, joined them. She had once told them that she refused to give them her real name so they couldn’t find her on campus or on Facebook. Her gaze flickered between all of them, sparing a brief glance to the three standing on the diving boards. Maine now had six different aquafit belts wrapped around him, buckles straining against his muscles and Carolina trying to convince him to also hold a pool noodle under his armpits.

“You wanna hurry up?” Four Seven Niner called up to Carolina. “Some of us have real work to do.”

“Fuck you,” South shouted down, but Carolina just offered the woman a smirk.

“Come on, Lina, you didn’t call me down here for a pool fouling, and I’ve got flight practice tomorrow.”

“Not my fault you have classes Saturday mornings!”

“You’re coming to the party, right?” North asked her as Carolina moved closer to Maine.

“Who else is gonna pick up the good stuff for your sorry asses?”

They watched as Maine remained locked in place at the edge of the ten foot tall diving board, and signed a brief sentence.

“He says it’s too high,” Wash yelled for all of them.

Even from his distance, he could see Carolina roll her eyes before she simply shoved Maine off the edge. The man plummeted through the air before his collision with the surface sent water eagerly stretching to the diving board and grasping at the cheering lifeguards. When Maine resurfaced, he found Wash’s face and signed a series of words too fast for anyone else to follow.

“I’m not translating that!” Wash called to him, and Maine’s responding look promised a sound dunking at the next staff party.

Wash just offered the man a smirk as the others called for a repeat while Maine refused to budge from the pool, spitting water at North when he dove in and came too close. Wash watched with a smile, shifting his attention briefly to the guardroom when he felt the back of his neck start to prickle. Through the window, Wash could see Connie observing all of them with an expression Wash didn’t think he’d be able to decipher even if stood right next to her and given several hints.  

She was gone before Wash could even begin to feel the pricks of guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For comparison's sake, here is some info about the drills and standards the Director was making them do. These are all based on the National Lifeguard Service (NLS) certifications/standards which is the standard used in Canada as those are the standards I am familiar with. 
> 
> Endurance swim: The NLS standard is 16 laps (for a 25 metre pool) in 10 minutes, or 400 metres in 16 minutes. 
> 
> Brick retrieval: As a physical standard, the NLS requirement is the retrieval of a SINGLE 20 pound brick from the depth of 3 metre. Most pools, though, require you to retrieve the brick from the deepest depth there if you work there. At the Blood Gulch Pool, this would be the diving well which is 5 metres. (Maine gets 50 pound ones because he is a beast).
> 
> Spinals are where you have a suspected spinal in the pool, you have to immobilize them, perform a roll so that their airway is out of the water, and then board them onto the spinal board as the paramedics will not get into the water to retrieve them. 
> 
> Standard in-services (not based on NLS, but my work experience) are one hour long per week, and only occur during the summertime.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theta raised his pinky finger to her, and she hooked her own around it wordlessly. The moment they completed the promise, Theta finally moved out from her shadow and stepped toward North. North gestured for him to follow him toward the shallow end, and Theta trailed behind him.

York pushed himself to his feet with a yawn as the clock above the pool warned him he had two minutes before his first lesson of the day began. North hadn’t even entered the room yet, and Wash moved across the pool deck as he gathered flutter boards for his group lessons. Carolina spoke with an angry parent by the benches and York fought not to roll his eyes. How some people had the energy to become that angry before nine am on a Saturday over _swimming lessons_ was completely beyond him.

York had shoved his attendance sheet and pen into a plastic bag by the time North rushed through the door, tossing his bag onto the cot and hastily stripping off his coat. They spared each other half a wave before York left the room, frowning down at the name of the kid in his private lesson.

“Delta?” he called to the groups of people sitting on the benches. A few of them glanced over but didn’t move.

Just as York opened his mouth to ask a second time, he saw a woman walking toward him. With her black hair pulled into a tight ponytail, spotless white blouse, and the complete lack of perspiration on her dark skin, she looked more suited for a day at the office than watching lessons in a public pool. A young boy walked her front of her, stopping in front of York and peering up at him without a hint of a smile. Another child clung to the woman’s leg, hiding his face in the fabric of her jeans.

“I’m Delta,” the boy in front of York said. Brown hair lay flat on the top of his head and his green eyes never left York’s face. He looked taller than the twelve years of age York’s attendance sheet claimed him to be, but just as lanky as York had been at his age.

“You’re in private swimming lessons right now?” York asked.

“Yes.”

“Twelve years old?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well I’m York. I’ll be your swimming instructor.” He offered Delta a smile and one to the woman standing behind him. She returned the sentiment, but Delta just kept staring at him without blinking. “Do you know what level you’re supposed to be in?”

“Five,” Delta replied immediately. “My last instructor said my front crawl technique was good and I need to work on keeping my legs even straighter during back crawl. Also, we started on whip kick and I didn’t have any scissor kick by the last class.”

“Uh, okay that’s–”

“I also brought my report card like they said I should.” He shoved the booklet toward York who slowly reached out to put it in his plastic bag. Only a few minutes in, and the seriousness encasing every syllable that left Delta’s lips had the lifeguard fumbling for the appropriate reaction.

“Well that’s good to know. Thanks, Delta. How about–”

“Theta?” Behind them, he heard North start to call for his own private lesson. The younger boy suddenly stiffened and the woman raised a hand.

“Over here,” she called, and turned back to York to explain, “I’m their babysitter. Vanessa Kimball.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” York said just as North reached them.

“This is Theta,” Vanessa told them, gesturing to the small boy still refusing to show them his face.

He continued to cling to Vanessa’s leg, purple swim drunks dripping water from the showers. North offered him a smile he couldn’t see. He was smaller than even South had been at nine, and North still teased her for the short stature she possessed at that time.

“Hey, Theta,” North said in a soft voice York had heard Wash using on a starving stray cat they once found outside the building. The boy didn’t reply, and when Delta turned to him, York noted the way Delta’s voice suddenly sounded a lot more childish with the superior tone of an older kid entering it.

“Come on, Theta, they’re not going to be mean.” Delta turned to North. “He’s just scared of new people.”

“Am not!” The younger child peeked his head out to give a petulant reply, but quickly hid his face again when everyone looked at him. York glanced at Vanessa, but she stayed quiet, gaze resting on Delta.

“Don’t worry, he likes people really quickly once you starting talking to him.” Delta stepped closer to Theta. “Theta, don’t you want to show them that cool trick you did in Ms. Kimball’s pool?”

“I’d love to see your trick, Theta,” North said. He crouched down so he was eye-level with the other boy. Slowly, without releasing his grip on Vanessa’s jeans, Theta stepped out from behind her leg. North offered him a gentle smile and remained quiet as Theta stared at him for a long moment. “What do you say?”

A long moment passed in silence. Theta glanced at the smiling Vanessa and Delta before finally giving North a slow nod. His hands dropped away from Vanessa’s pants, but for a moment, he remained inches from her body. Delta moved to stand beside York, and now Vanessa bent down to address Theta.

“Remember, if you do your best with your teacher today, I’ll buy you all strawberry wafers for today’s snack,” she said.

Theta raised his pinky finger to her, and she hooked her own around it wordlessly. The moment they completed the promise, Theta finally moved out from her shadow and stepped toward North. North gestured for him to follow him toward the shallow end, and Theta trailed behind him.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Theta once again hesitated, small hands flung out to cling at the metal railing. North took a step into the pool before turning around to ask Theta to come in. When Theta didn’t move, just flicked his gaze back and forth between North and the water, North offered the boy his hand.

“Would you like to go in together?” he asked.

Theta stared at his outstretched hand before glancing at the benches where Vanessa now sat among the crowd of parents clutching their coffee and phones. North stayed still when Theta swung his gaze back to study the distance between them.

“You promise you won’t tell the others if we hold hands?”

“Others?”

Theta nodded.

“Delta always holds my hand when we have to have buddies, but Omega says it’s dumb and I’m a baby if I do it.”

“I promise I won’t tell the others.” North felt his smile grow bigger. “And holding hands doesn’t mean you’re a baby. It just means you like someone.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Then Theta grabbed his hand and all but dragged North down the reminder of the stairs. He let go on the very last step and leapt into the water before North could say anything. When he came up for air, he was finally giving North a shy smile.

“Watch me, okay?”

*******

The problem with Delta came not from his technique, but the distance. His kicking on both front and back possessed all of the necessary aspects York needed to see in order to check the item as complete. In front crawl, Delta breathed to the side and moved his arms continuously. He simply nodded when York told him in level five he would have to begin to bend his elbows, and then asked what drill they would do to practice. He knew all of the safety items when York asked for them, and performed a flawless standing dive in the deep end.

But he kept stopping. Every time York told him to do a length, the boy would stop halfway through to ask York if he was doing it right.

“I promise I will stop you and tell you if there’s something you’re doing wrong,” York assured him. “And we’ll review everything after you finish.”

The boy nodded and started swimming again, but thirty seconds later, he stopped again. Even if the technique worked, York couldn’t give the item a checkmark unless Delta swam the required distance.

It was almost reassuring to know there was something the child needed to work on. The way he approached everything with the same degree of seriousness as a medical doctor, and performed each task with inhuman perfectionhad begun to freak York out a bit.

“Alright, nice work,” York said when Delta finally finished another lap. Because there were no higher level group lessons at the moment, they two had gotten a lane in the middle tank all to themselves for the lesson. At the moment, they held onto the wall in the portion of the middle tank where Delta could no longer touch the ground.

With a grin, York removed the whistle hanging from around his neck and held it out to Delta. “You wanna try and get the whistle from the bottom?”

“Why would I do that?” Delta asked him. For the first time that lesson, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “What stroke would that improve?”

“It’s not for that, it’s just like a reward for doing so well today. A mini game for the last few minutes.”

“Oh.” Delta tilted his head in consideration. “Theta loves games.” He studied the red whistle. “Okay, it can’t be too difficult.”

Two minutes later, Delta resurfaced once again with a spluttering gasp and empty hands.

“Why is this so _hard_?” Delta demanded.

With any other child, York would have called the higher pitched tone a wail, but Delta’s volume stubbornly remained at conversational level. He said it in the same tone one might remark that their pencil tip had broken, simply needing a sharpener to fix the problem. He glared at the clear water as if the liquid had hands that were actively pushing him up and away from the whistle.

York was failing to not find the whole thing hilarious. With Delta’s inability to swim distances, though, it seemed logical that he wouldn’t be able to reach the bottom of the pool.

“Hey, lighten up, D,” he told the child with a light pat on the shoulder. “You’ll just have to try again next week.”

Delta squinted at him.

“D?”

“Yeah, sorry.” York began to lift himself out of the pool, and Delta quickly followed suit. “I’ll call you by your full name if you don’t like that nickname.”

“I don’t not like it,” Delta said slowly as they got to their feet. He studied York and the man fought the urge to squirm. He’d dealt with plenty of curious children before, no need to have this one make him feel like a specimen in a live experiment.“You think our names are strange?”

“Nah, just unique.” He offered Delta an easy smile. “You and Theta brothers?”

“No. We just go to the same babysitter.”

“Huh.” So there was more than one parent in the neighbourhood who thought naming their kid after the Greek alphabet sounded like a good plan. Then again, most of the lifeguards’ parents apparently enjoyed having states for names. “Well good work today. I’ll see you next week.”

“Good bye, York. I will try harder next time.”

The boy walked off, determination pulling his shoulders straight and forcing his chin out as York gave his head a small shake. He hurried to his next lesson before he had any chance to dwell on the private one.

***

The sound of children shouting had already begun to fill the spacious room as lessons entered the pool in the morning light. Tex remained on deck, the young adolescent boy before her eyeing her up and down as if they were about to enter the boxing ring together. Tex resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest and raise an eyebrow at the boy, knowing neither of those actions would be considered very professional. Not that anyone of higher status than her was in the building at the moment to call her out on it, but she still existed as an example to the rest of the lifeguards as their APM.

It was a sad day when dealing with Church was easier than this. At least he knew when to listen to her, even if he didn’t always apply that knowledge.

“Well, Omega,” Tex said to the slouched boy. He had only given her a small nod when she asked if that was his name, and spent the rest of the time glaring. “Deep end or shallow end to start?”

“Both suck,” he replied. He made sure to meet her gaze before speaking again. “And you look stupid.”

 She did allow herself to cock an eyebrow slightly at that. The boy jutted out his chin in all of his adolescent arrogance, and Tex couldn’t wait for someone to squash that as they might a cockroach. She drew herself up to her full height, allowing her body to remain relaxed and taking a single step closer to Omega. Grains of satisfaction trickled through her as the motion forced Omega to tilt his head up at her to maintain eye contact.

“First things first,” she told the thirteen year old boy. “ _Never_ use that kind of language or attitude in our lesson or anywhere near the pool deck. Otherwise, I don’t do these lessons and you don’t get in the pool.”

“What if I don’t want to do these lessons?”

“Then you won’t get to go on the diving board or slide, either. Rec swim, or at the end of our lessons.”

He narrowed his eyes at her to try and see if she meant what she said. Tex stared right back, and Omega didn’t have to look long to see her anger was the type that promised broken fingers, a bloody nose, and an extremely sore groin. Control coated every limb of her body, and he guessed she could have all the other lifeguards on her side with a single word.

“Deep end,” he muttered as quietly as he could. He let his heel scuff the ground in anger, and she allowed the smallest of satisfied smiles on her face.

“Alright. Let’s see how well you tread water.”

***

“Everything alright, Maine?” Carolina asked as the lifeguard stared at the attendance sheet in front of him.

He grunted at her, but the frown didn’t fade from his face. She glanced over at the lesson schedule for that morning that had been pinned to their bulletin board. York and Tex were about to come off for a fifteen minute break, and Maine and Carolina were supposed to be heading out for their own lessons. Privates for Carolina and group for Maine, and she felt understanding slide into place like a Tetris piece.

“If you want, you can have my privates and I’ll teach the group lesson,” she offered, and the mute man blinked at her. She gave him a smile. “You know I like group ones better.”

Really, private lessons could be a wonderful break from the administrative hassles and group lessons she did during the morning, depending on the kid. If a parent paid the price for a private lesson, it normally meant the kid was there to try, and controlling one hyperactive child in comparison to six of them was a much easier task.

But she could at least yell at the children if she needed to get them back under control whereas Maine relied on his whistle. The first time he’d done it, all of the guards had come skidding out of the room, frantically searching the pool for the emergency and necessary place to dive in. Instead, they had found Maine staring at them as a kid with flushed cheeks ducked his head in front of him.

“Kid wouldn’t stop hitting his friend,” he had signed to them. He merely shrugged when South yelled that she had nearly jumped in the pool, and continued to use his whistle as his form of shouting.

A morning filled with constant whistling and need to check the source didn’t sound very appealing on five hours of sleep and no coffee.

Carolina held out the attendance sheet of her private lesson, and Maine took it after a moment’s pause. He signed his gratitude to her before heading out the door with a bag and sheet clutched in his hand. He found a boy sitting on a bench in a swimsuit and ignoring the calls for group lessons. When Maine showed him the name on the attendance sheet the older boy nodded.

“That’s me,” Sigma said. His gaze found the age before Maine pulled the sheet away and stuffed it in his plastic bag. “I’ll be fifteen in a month.”

Maine pointed to the pool and took a step toward it. Sigma didn’t move.

“Are you sick or something?” he asked.

Maine shook his head, pointing to his throat and then shaking his head again.

“You can’t speak?”

Maine nodded.

“Well do you know sign language? Because my grandma is deaf so I learned some so we could talk.”

Maine’s expression didn’t change as he signed Sigma a rapid series of words.

“You said, good, now get in the pool or I’ll throw you in,” Sigma said, and Maine inclined his head. “I’m pretty sure you can’t actually do that. Besides, my stomach feels really shitty right now so–”

Maine took a step toward him and once again jabbed a finger at the water. He didn’t bother to sign anything, just glowered at Sigma with raised eyebrows.

“I might throw up.”

 _We know how to clean it up_ , Maine signed.

“I’m sure that would be gross for you guys.”

_We’re used to it._

“The other patrons will probably get upset.”

_We’re used to that, too._

“Why don’t we just do a dry day? I’m sure there’s a lot of safety and dryland skills you have to do in level 8.”

_You want to waste your parents’ money?_

Sigma didn’t reply right away, and Maine took that opportunity to step closer to the water’s edge.

_Pool. Now._

Sigma turned his attention to the clear water, and scolded his imagination for providing an image of glowing sea monsters and drooling sharks. All the other children in the pool were currently alive and not being devoured by the monsters lurking in the crevices of his thoughts. He glanced at the impatient Maine.

Besides, his teacher looked strong enough to fight off ten sharks with his bare hands.

***

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Nana.”

“Nana who?”

“Nanna your business, you dirty shisno!”

Wyoming stared as the eleven year old boy in front of him clutched at his sides and descended into a fit of laughter at his own knock-knock joke. Wyoming wanted to both congratulate the boy on the joke and ask what on earth a shisno was. He shook his head. He could never keep up with kids and their endless supply of slang.

“Well, Gamma, shall we start in the shallow end?”

“One more, one more.”

“Tell me as we climb in, alright?”

“Knock knock,” Gamma began again as they knelt by the pool edge.

“Who’s there?” Wyoming asked, and slipped into the water.

“Etch.”

“Etch who?”

“Bless you!” Gammasaid, and then jumped right in front of Wyoming as he scrambled backwards so as not to be hit on the head. Water splashed into his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut for a second, before he opened them and grabbed at his flailing student.

“Good show, lad,” Wyoming complimented him as Gamma hunched his shoulders against the cool temperature. “Since you’re in level four, let’s get started on your front crawl. Now–”

“I know what that one is!”

Before Wyoming could get another word out, the boy flung himself into the water. He began to slap the water with his arms and send water crashing around him as he frantically kicked his legs. He lifted his head out of the water for a gasping breath before squirming back through it. Wyoming spared a single glance to the other lane where a teenager watched Maine demonstrating the back crawl with as much attention as he might give his favourite movie.

Wyoming gave his moustache a little stroke before stepping forward to stop Gamma before he drank the whole pool.

***

Junior refused to let go of Tucker’s hand the moment the pool building came into view. It made getting the boy into his swim trunks a little more difficult than normal, but the second Tucker suggested he let go, the five year old only clung tighter. He looked as if Tucker had just asked if they should bury his teddy bear, and it made his small chin start to tremble.

“Come on, Junior, you love the water,” Tucker reminded his child as they stood on the pool deck and waited for their instructor. He could see Washington teaching a lesson in the shallow end and he absolutely did not scowl or bemoan the unfairness of the asshole having such toned abs. The way Junior seemed a second away from flinging himself at Tucker’s waist and crying made it easier to ignore everyone else for the moment.

“Don’t wanna,” Junior said, and yanked at Tucker’s arm to get him to move back toward the change room. “Please, daddy.”

“You know you gotta learn how to swim better, buddy.”

“You can teach me.”

Tucker smiled at him.

“I wish I could, Junior. But I’m not a very good teacher and I don’t have any training.”

“I think you’re the bestest teacher in the world.”

Junior looked up at him with eyes wide from honesty and Tucker nearly choked at the sound of the absolute trust in his son’s voice. After five years, he still had no clue what he was doing as a parent, yet Junior never seemed to love Tucker any less than another child would.

“Okay, sea otter,” a lifeguard with messy brown hair called as he stepped onto the deck.

“That’s us,” Tucker said, and Junior instantly refused to move as a horde of other children were pushed gently toward the lifeguard. “I’ll come with you, okay?”

Junior just kept staring at the lifeguard, but he allowed himself to be dragged a step forward. The lifeguard had gotten the children to sit down in a circle around him, carefully checking each of their names off on a sheet of paper. He looked up with a grin when Tucker and Junior arrived, even though Junior quickly skittered behind Tucker.

“Are you Junior?” the lifeguard asked, and then looked up at Tucker for confirmation.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m York.”

“Junior, can you say hi?” Tucker asked him, Junior shook his head, refusing to look anywhere but the wet ground. Tucker glanced back and fidgeted at the sympathy he saw in York’s face.

“Look, this level is assisted, right?” Tucker said, and York looked at him in surprise. “I mean, they don’t have to do the stuff on their own, right? I asked last session about it.”

“Yeah, but usually–”

“You mean assisted by the lifeguard, yeah, I know. But technically, that could be me, right?”

York frowned at his sheet, and Tucker bent closer. “I know he’s got to learn to do it without me but he’s absolutely terrified of strangers and he’s just gonna spend the half hour crying.”

York opened his mouth just as a lifeguard with long, red hair hurried over with a parent and child. She kneeled right beside York and whispered quickly into his ear, too low and close for Tucker to make out. York nodded, and then a slow grin cracked his face.

“Well, looks like it’s all going to be perfectly fine,” York told Tucker. “I’ve got one more kid than normal, and that usually means getting another guard in the pool. But since you want to be in and watching Junior, that means I’ll still just have the six.”

He nodded at the female lifeguard who offered the other parent a smile and a nod before moving off. The parent left the child to sit, and Tucker slowly sat down himself. Junior stared at him, glancing once at York, before hurrying to climb into the safety of Tucker’s lap.

“Welcome to the class, Mr. ?”

“Just call me Tucker.”

York blinked before the grin on his face seemed to widen. Before Tucker could question it, Junior buried his face in his chest and York began the lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your comments and kudos!! 
> 
> Hopefully the kid versions of the AIs worked out alright. For this fic's purpose, the ages are roughly as follows:
> 
> Sigma--14 (soon to turn 15); his grandma reads lips and uses sign language for communication  
> Omega--13  
> Delta--12  
> Gamma--11  
> Theta--9
> 
> Sorry it doesn't completely follow the canonical birth order so to speak. Also, to do with Tucker's part, normally lessons for children age 3-5 years are supposed to be without the caregiver though in sea otter, most swimming items are considered complete if done with the assistance of the swimming instructor. The ratio for lifeguard to kids in the younger levels is 1:6. Anything more requires another person be in the pool assisting with the lesson due to safety reasons, though that other person doesn't have to be another certified lifeguard. 
> 
> (Instructor sheets will say with an additional Assistant WSI, the ratio can increase by 4. An Assistant WSI is someone in the Water Safety Instructor course, and they only have to have swimming ability equivalent to level 10; they are not required to have any lifeguarding certifications). 
> 
> Next chapter will get back to some water polo and development of the Reds and Blues. I'm hoping to post a new chapter about once a week.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I may not be a coach, but I know about conditioning in the water,” Wash continued. “And I’ve watched matches before. Plus, at least two of the lifeguards on staff have played before–they’d be more than willing to give us drills.”

Any slim hope Tucker possessed of escaping Blood Gulch and its lifeguards had been destroyed over the weekend. Tex had doused it with kerosene before holding a blowtorch to it with a grin, and then sent a few nuclear bombs after any remains.

Tucker sat on the couch Saturday night, unfocused gaze watching the colours blur by on the TV while Church cursed in their kitchen. Junior had already passed out in Tucker’s bed after several assurances that both Tucker and Church would be just outside the door if needed.

The unlocked door to their apartment burst open without any warning, and Tucker spilled his pop as the noise propelled him out of his slouch.

“What the fuck did you do, Tucker?” his roommate called to him, and Tucker stared at the figure now gazing at him with a smirk from their entranceway.

“It’s for you,” Tucker shouted back.

The sound of stomping feet filled the silence of their apartment before coming to an abrupt stop when Church froze in the kitchen doorway. Tex’s gaze instantly shifted to him, black backpack shifting where it hung on her bare shoulder.

“I’m hungry,” Tex simply said before brushing past Church into the kitchen.

Tucker watched her go, marvelling at the skinny jeans and tank top she wore despite the brisk temperature outside. Church remained still for a few seconds, even after the sound of opening cupboards and the slam of the fridge door drifted through the cool air. The wide eyes and slightly parted mouth didn’t make sense to Tucker since he _knew_ Church had been texting Tex about coming over that weekend.

When Church slowly turned and moved to join her, Tucker decided it was a good time to retreat to his room and finish the last remnants of his homework.

But for a few moments, he simply sat at his computer desk and listened to the rise and fall of their voices, as familiar as his favourite song.

Now it was the following Tuesday, and Church remained as happy as he had been Sunday morning. He still cursed Tucker and the Blues out with every breath he took, and he still grouched about his misfortune of being surrounded by the world’s biggest idiots. But Tucker had been rooming with the guy since first year, so hearing the contentment in between the swearing was as easy as reading Junior’s picture books.

The smirk Church wore every time he glanced at a text on his phone as opposed to the scowl or frown that had been etched into it for the past week was a pretty obvious clue, too.

Which meant Church’s insistences on going to the Blood Gulch Pool were even firmer now. Tucker didn’t know if Tex and Church had make-up sex or genuinely talked about their feelings, but whatever went down Saturday night, it seemed to have made sure Tex wouldn’t be disappearing from their lives any time soon.

And as much as Tucker bitched about her or teased Church about her, he would never be able to genuinely resent her or wish her gone. Not when he still got nightmares about the night in second year when some asshole had smashed a beer bottle over Church’s head in the middle of a crowded bar. Tucker had never seen someone drop so quickly, his laughter and Church’s insults still wreathed around him like cigarette smoke. All around them people continued to dance in a mass of writhing bodies who knocked into Tucker’s frozen form without sparing him a glance.

The guy who’d done it got knocked down within seconds, his fresh blood smeared across Tex’s knuckles and her barred teeth dissuading any of his other friends to take a step closer. Church’s limp arms were around her shoulders before Tucker could take another breath, and she both carried Church and manhandled a very drunk Tucker out the door. Somehow, she got both the paramedics and a concerned Caboose to arrive within minutes, shoving Tucker into Caboose’s car and hopping into the ambulance with Church.

Tucker didn’t remember the rest of the night in one coherent stream of consciousness, but flashes of sensation and sound mixed with the occasional image.

Caboose’s voice but not his words.

The red flare of an ambulance light.

 _Mr. Brightside_ blaring in his ear as the car rocked him back and forth on the way home.

Choking on the intangible acid of his fear, and then choking on tangible vomit when he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the cold concrete.

Getting into bed and changing out of his clothes were blank spots in his memory. But he did remember being woken by Caboose before the sun even dragged itself from bed, headache already beginning to take root. Caboose fumbled to press a cellphone to Tucker’s ear, Tex’s voice assuring him Church would be okay.  

To that day, Tucker had never heard her speak in a softer tone than the one rising above the muddle of drunken memories from that night.

Which had no bearing on Tucker’s right to bitch about the pool and the other lifeguards.

However, any such complaints were currently being put on hold while Caboose trapped Church in a conversation about the latest automobiles his class were working on in shop. Tucker kept snickering at the pained look on Church’s face every time Caboose found a new topic to leap into as they walked onto the pool deck.

Tucker gave Wash a jaunty wave before slipping into the water. After much deliberation that involved lots of swearing at each other, Tucker and Church had decided to put their cursing on hold, or at least lower the volume, during aquafit practice. Groaning and lamenting the class’ difficulty–overdramatically in both Church and Wash’s opinion–remained fair game, though.

“That’s really great, Caboose,” Church was saying in response to Caboose’s declaration of naming his newest project ‘Freckles.’ “Now get in the fucking pool so we can start practice.”

They were only fifteen minutes in when Wash materialized by the side of the pool, calling for the attention of both Tucker and Church.

“I can’t take this anymore,” Wash told them once they reached the side, the two Blues glancing at each other in confusion.

“Take what?”

“ _This_!” Wash gestured to the pool where Caboose practiced how long he could hold his breath underwater and Sarge failed to motivate Grif through shouting. “This–this farce of a practice.”

“Hey, fuck you,” Church said, glaring at the insult to his captain skills.

“Why do you even care?” Tucker asked. Beyond Tucker’s occasional wave, his complaints at aquafit practice, and Wash’s gritted or snarky responses, Wash barely interacted with the members of the water polo teams.

“Because I’m stuck watching it every single morning and then stuck listening to you _complain_ for an hour afterwards.”

“I get that Tucker’s pretty fucking annoying–”

“Screw you!”

“–but what the fuck makes you think you can just up and teach us?” Church demanded. “Are you even a certified water polo coach or whatever?”

Wash’s eyebrows lifted at that, arms crossing over his chest.

“Are you?”

Tucker snorted before realizing that would only encourage Wash. Sure enough, his lips curled up in triumph and Tucker scowled in return.

“I may not be a coach, but I know about conditioning in the water,” Wash continued. “And I’ve watched matches before. Plus, at least two of the lifeguards on staff have played before–they’d be more than willing to give us drills.”

“Okay fine, by why the _fuck_ would I listen to you?” Church asked. “We’re pretty cool with things as they are.”

“You mean never winning against the Reds? Getting drowned by Grif every scrimmage? Never being able to compete with the other league teams?”

“We’ve beaten the Reds before.”

“And Tex?”

Tucker stilled, and the smugness on Wash’s face easily revealed his knowledge of the trump card he held.

“What about her?” Tucker asked because Church had gone uncharacteristically quiet. Which meant he was either panicking or actually trying to think of a plan. Neither activities ever ended well for any of them.

Wash shrugged.

“She said she wanted to join you guys.”

“So let her be the active one or whatever,” Tucker said with an eyeroll.

“You really think she’s going to want to carry you guys all the time?”

“Uh, that’s what she does normally.”

“And what are you going to do when she wants to play a match against you?”

“Bullshit, she’d never join the Reds.”

“Against _all_ of you.”

Tucker’s jaw snapped shut at that. He wanted to offer a similar protest to his earlier ones, but couldn’t when he knew Tex really would take pleasure in such an event. She’d take pleasure in it and she’d kick _everyone’s_ asses. Literally and figuratively.

“You’re totally lying,” Tucker said.

“Tucker,” Church said, and Tucker whirled around. “She did actually say something about that Saturday night.”

“ _What_?”

“There you go,” Wash replied, and Tucker wanted to punch him. “I won’t promise any miracles, but if you let me help, you’ll at least survive with some of your dignity intact.”

Church fell quiet and Tucker gaped at him.

“Church–”

“Fuck it,” Church replied with a scowl. “Fine, show us what you’ve got since you’re so fucking superior.”

“Oh come on!” Tucker barely resisted the urge to shove his roommate’s head underwater. “You’re only agreeing because you won’t be at practices much longer!”

 Every year, as soon as October hit, Church disappeared beneath a suffocating mound of schoolwork. He stopped coming to practices regularly, needing that extra hour and a half in the morning either for sleep or for finishing projects. He would still come to an occasional one once and awhile, but Tucker would become the one who showed up regularly, if only because Caboose was liable to drown in their absence. Or end up at their apartment even more than normal, resulting in at least one broken appliance and one burnt piece of clothing.

Also, Kaikaina enjoyed the odd scrimmages she played, and if all of them stopped coming, it wouldn’t just be clothing that burned.

Church smirked just confirmed that line of reasoning, and he gave Tucker’s shoulder a quick pat.

“Don’t be such a fucking wuss, Tucker. Sides’, didn’t you say sports would help you pick up all the ladies?”

“I hate you so much,” Tucker told him, before turning to Wash and repeating the sentiment. Neither of them seemed particularly impressed by the statement.

“Stop fucking whining, Tucker. Hey, Caboose!” The blond man bobbed to the surface and looked over at them. “Washington’s gonna be helping out at practices for a bit, okay?”

Caboose turned his gaze on Wash, tilting his head a little as Wash tried not to fidget.

“Can I still practice holding my breath?”

“Um, yes?” Wash replied.

“Then okay,” Caboose said with a wide smile. Wash returned it with a small one of his own, before turning to Tucker and letting something akin to glee creep into his eyes.   

“Let’s start with some cardio.”

***

“Uh, North?”

North braced one hand against the wall as he attempted to get his breathing back under control. The occasional wheeze still snuck in, but he excused it given how hard he had been laughing a minute ago.

He looked over to where York stood beside him on the deck. The other lifeguard gazed at Wash as he bent close to the water’s edge to argue better with Tucker. The water polo player rested his arms on the side of the pool, the scowl on his face ruining the lazy air the rest of his body posture seemed to emanate.

“Isn’t he supposed to be guarding?” York asked.

Sarge’s loud shouting filled the air of the building, but occasionally, the high pitch of Wash’s frustrated voice overpowered the sound of the older man’s gruff one. York’s eyes widened with each passing second, and North didn’t bother to hide the grin on his face.

“Well yeah,” North admitted. “But this is the most amusing thing that’s likely to happen all morning.”

They heard Wash threatening to drown Tucker if he didn’t get moving in the sudden absence of Sarge’s encouragements. Tucker gave the lifeguard the middle finger, but still started swimming toward Kaikaina, who had only shown up five minutes previously.

York turned to face North, eyes narrowing even as his shoulders relaxed a little.

“Won’t you be up for an hour? Their practice starts at seven and if Carolina is busy and I don’t get here till eight–”

“Still totally worth it.” He clapped a hand on York’s shoulder. “Trust me, you’ll see. I think they’re about to start scrimmages, and we get front row seats.”

“Does Carolina know?” York asked after a moment’s pause.

Both of their gazes flickered to the guardroom, but it remained empty. She said something about broken glass and murdering some cocky teenagers that morning when North first arrived, but he’d only caught glimpses of her in the room since.

“She probably won’t care. And the Director never comes in this early on weekdays.”

Wash’s squeaky shout suddenly echoing throughout the room as he yelled Tucker’s name cut off any further questions from York. 

“We have rights!” Kaikaina screeched at Wash at the same time Tucker replied, “Go fuck yourself, Wash!”

A second later, Church missed yet another close shot on their net.

“Go get some water,” York said as he took the rescue tube from North and settled against the wall. He spared a glance at the lone lane swimmer before shifting his attention back to the scrimmage just beginning in front of them. “Looks like it’s about to get good.”

“Be back in fifteen,” North agreed with a cheerful wave. He kept his gaze trained on the water polo players and Wash’s clenched jaw the whole walk back to the guardroom.

***

Kaikaina disappeared into the bathroom ten minutes into the scrimmage with a shout about lady needs, and Church missed yet another pass to Tucker. He passed from their end, Tucker treading near the middle and watching as the ball sailed ten metres away from him.

“Church, you’re supposed to be the hole set when Kaikaina’s gone,” Tucker shouted. “So why the _fuck_ can’t you just pass the ball to me?”

“I did! Just swim to it, you lazy ass motherfucker!”

To his left, Tucker could hear Simmons shouting at Grif to hurry and get the ball before Tucker did. With his sister still absent, though, the man made very little effort to move.

“Are you fucking kidding me, that’s way too far, Simmons!”

“It’s 10 metres, you fucking fatass!”

At the side of the pool, Wash glared at all of them and Tucker winced as his voice climbed even higher and squeakier than Church’s voice often got when he was frustrated or angry.

“Would someone _please_ just get the god damn ball!” he yelled, and Tucker rolled his eyes before beginning to swim toward the floating item.

He didn’t manage to score, but he thought he got a pretty good shot off even if Wash didn’t seem to. Five minutes later, Kaikaina appeared out of nowhere once more and Caboose grabbed the ball. Tucker desperately tried to get in position somewhere in the Reds’ end as Wash shouted at Caboose to pass the ball to Tucker.

With an excited grin, Caboose wound his arm back and hurled the ball as hard as he could.

Tucker swore he could hear the smacking noise from his distance when the ball smashed into the back of Church’s head where he treaded two feet away from Caboose. Tucker clapped his hands to his mouth to keep from laughing as Church began swearing and clutching the back of his head.

“That was the worst throw ever,” Wash said in a voice heavy with exhaustion. “Of all time.”

“Caboose, you fucktard,” Church yelled at the other man. “Why would you hit me?”

“It was not my fault,” Caboose replied. “Someone put Church’s head in the way.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tucker could see York and a redheaded guard having hysterics in the guardroom. The man guarding the lane swim leaned against the wall and clutched at his sides as he tried not to let the his laughter force him to his ass on the pool deck.

“Still think you’re hot stuff, Wash?” Tucker shouted at him before swimming back to grab the ball as Simmons raced him to it.

***

For once, Simmons was the first to reach the benches with their towels after practice. Normally, he hung around to speak with Sarge while Grif made sarcastic comments or desperately swam away from Sarge’s well-aimed water polo balls. But today, Sarge listened to Donut as he explained why he had missed their last few practices. Today, Simmons’ father had left the house a 6:30am with a scowl already on his face, causing a desperate need for Simmons to check the news.

His Iphone remained wrapped in his towel where left it at the start of practice, and Simmons quickly dried his hands on his towel before touching the black and white math case. The equations scribbled along its back and knowledge of the other five at home, all gifts from Grif, did nothing to improve his mood as it normally did.

Simmons’ fingers danced across the screen as he opened up a browser and did a quick search of the most recent news regarding the stock market and the companies his father brokered for. The first hit made him squeeze his eyes shut and pray he had simply misread the title before he opened his eyes again.

The title and the scandal it promised remained unchanged. Simmons didn’t even need to check his stock market app to know those stocks would be falling already, and continue to crash throughout the day as his father worked to put out the fire.

“What’s up?” Grif’s voice didn’t even make him turn as his teammate appeared behind him. Water dripped onto Simmons’ bare skin as Grif leaned over Simmons shoulder to see what he stared at on his phone. Grif gave a low whistle. “Your dad’s gonna be pissed.”

“No shit,” Simmons said, any other words sticking in his dry throat.

His stomach began to feel as if he had just swallowed a container of the chlorine kept in the pools’ boiler room, stomach devouring its own cells in Simmons’ anxiety. Grif turned away as Simmons continued to scroll down the page and tried to ignore his stomach’s reminder of just how acidic it really was.

He skimmed the article, mind already beginning to play a sampling of a dozen different scenarios for the night. Every single one featured his dad breezing through the door in a tumult of shiny briefcases, impeccable dark suits, and venomous anger. In each, Simmons imagined the different people his dad would find a way to blame and curse at as they sat at the dinner table.

Maybe he would blame the increase in female business owners, while Simmons’ mother quietly served the steaming dinner she’d cooked. Maybe he would blame the rising immigration rate and people of colour, as Grif sent him sarcastic commentary about the movie he was watching for film class. Or maybe he would manage to find a way to drag the LGBT community into it while Simmons thanked every deity in existence that his dad was too busy with work to ever question why Simmons had yet to bring a girlfriend home.

“Oi, Donut.” Simmons jolted a little at the sound of Grif calling over his roommate from where he waved goodbye to Sarge. Donut came over with an easy smile and pink goggles swinging from his hands.

“What’s up guys?”

“You finally getting the new Smash Bros tonight?” Grif asked, and Donut’s smile widened.

Now the bitterness of jealousy joined the poisonous mayhem spreading throughout Simmons’ body. With his father’s mood, _his_ night would be spent holed in his room to avoid his father’s rage, and then trying to keep his shoulder’s straight when his father called him out to demand a review of all of Simmons’ academic achievements so far. They would be found lacking in light of the scandal glaring at them from his father’s laptop, and a lecture bursting with criticismswould occupy the wee hours of the morning.

“Hell yeah, as long as EBisn’t lying to me about it arriving today.” Donut’s voice rose in excitement and out of the corner of his eye, Simmons saw Kaikaina turning toward them from where she stood a few feet away with Tucker and Washington. “We’re going hard all night with no mercy.”

“Bow chicka bow wow,” Tucker shouted.

“Stop eavesdropping on our conversation,” Grif yelled right back before frowning. “How the fuck did you even hear that?”

“I have a sixth sense!”

Simmons saw Washington’s eyes slide shut as Tucker grinned, but the sudden warm breath tickling his neck as Kaikaina draped herself over his back had his attention careening away.

“Who’s doing who all night long, and are they interested in a threesome?” she asked, and Simmons shifted a little as her arms dangled over his shoulders.

He could feel a blush creeping up his neck, but after three years of visiting Grif’s apartment and dealing with Kaikaina in varying degrees of sobriety and nudity, the reaction was easy enough to ignore.

The slippery floor and his lack of balance, on the other hand, were a bit harder.

“Link and Marth,” Grif replied. He snickered a little as Simmons stumbled when Kaikaina pushed off him with a pout, regaining his posture a moment later.

“Psh, let me know when there’s real people involved.” She tilted her head. “Ooh, _or_ someone invents a machine to let me temporarily enter an animation. Get on that, nerd.”

“I’m in _math_ , not science. And I really doubt virtual reality will get that far anytime soon.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because it’s actually cool,” Grif said, smirk beginning to grow on his face.

“The steps they’ve made so far are–”

“Does that mean you’re not going to play with us, Kaikaina?” Donut interrupted with a frown. “Your custom stages are always second best.”

“Fuck you, they’re so much better than yours.” She blinked as the context of the situation finally seemed to seep into her mind. “Oh my god, you got the new Smash Bros?”

“It’s supposed to be at the store by noon.”

“Fuck yes!” she screeched, throwing her hands in the air and causing the lifeguards in the guardroom to look up in alarm. “Goodbye English homework, helloooo kicking Grif’s ass.”

“Nobody’s touching it until I’m done my classes!” Donut told her, arms folding across his chest.

“You don’t finish till seven!”

“He’ll buy you energy drinks on the way home,” Grif promised. She beamed, and then threw an arm around Simmons’ stiff shoulders. He fumbled with his phone as her barely concealed breasts pressed against his side.

“You’re coming too, right, nerd? We need _someone_ to make my brother feel slightly less shitty about his shitty ass fighting skills.”

“I killed both your asses as Jigglypuff last weekend.”

“You have to unlock her,” Donut said at the same time that Kaikaina snapped, “And we agreed you’re not allowed to play as her anymore. All you do is jump away and it’s annoying as fuck.”

“You’re just a sore loser.”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and turned a pleading gaze back on Simmons. “So you’re coming, right?”

“I–” Grif’s snort cut him off.

“Of course he is. You know the nerd’s been dying to play as Lucina since she was announced for the unlockable character roster. He won’t even need a drink to stay up all night.”

“You know the buses stop running at midnight,” Simmons said, trying to inject a protest into his tone but failing miserly as the phone burned in his hand. Grif shrugged.

“So? Just crash at our place.”

“On a weeknight?”

“As if that’s a new thing,” Kaikaina said, and Simmons couldn’t deny that.

The small apartment Grif, Kaikaina, and Donut shared often provided a safe respite from Simmons’ own family despite the absolute mess the three university students managed to accumulate. Though at least Donut seemed to make attempts at remaining conscientious of the apartment’s cleanliness, given the living room and its pull-out couch washis room.

Kaikaina offered Simmons a sly smile before adding, “You can even sleep in my bed if you promise not to be selfish.”

“How come you never say those kinds of things to be me?” Tucker said from where he materialized on Grif’s other side as he swore.  

“You’re not invited, Blue.”

“Your sister’s a Blue.”

“So needy,” Kaikaina said, before detaching herself from Simmons to knock Tucker away with a grin. Donut quickly hopped backwards to avoid the collision of bodies.

“Seriously, Simmons,” Grif said as he ignored all of them. Tucker laughed, scrambling out of Kaikaina’s reach as Church shouted at him from the change rooms to hurry the fuck up. “I know you’re terrified of losing to my mad skills, but just grab whatever school shit you need for tomorrow on your break and then come crash at our place. Or you could not be such a kiss ass for once and just skip your classes tomorrow.”

“Some of us actually want to do things with our lives, Grif.”

“Sounds exhausting. Count me the fuck out.”

Simmons rolled his eyes, but gave in just to get Donut to shut up when his needling began to enter dangerous innuendo territory. Then he began to follow the others to the change room, trying to ignore the way Grif hid a smile when Simmons deleted the article tab with only a second’s hesitation.

Both of them refused to acknowledge Grif’s reason for choosing to call over Donut in that specific moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Church just wants Tucker to suffer. 
> 
> Purposefully vague business scandal and company because all I know about the stockmarket and business is what Google told me. (I'm thinking something along the lines of extortion of money, though).
> 
> Thank you again for all your comments and kudos! 
> 
> You can also come say hi to me on my Tumblr if you'd like. (gracer222.tumblr.com)


	6. Chapter 6

Tucker got his chance for revenge three days following Wash’s take-over of their water polo practices. Three days in and Tucker found there to be no change in any of their skill levels. Church still couldn’t aim, Caboose still smashed the ball into the backs of his own teammates’ heads, and Kaikaina still only showed up for scrimmages most of the time. But now Tucker woke up every morning with muscles that hated him, and a mind that replayed echoes of Wash’s shouting in class.

Church seemed to agree that Wash had issues, but he would start to disappear from practices as of the following week. Caboose didn’t seem to care about the switch to drills, though the other man had always been abnormally strong and cheerful. Tucker could at least understand the strength given Caboose’s enrollment in the automotive engineeringprogram at their city’s college. After somehow mistaking Church and Tucker’s university pool for his college’s pool despite the distance between the campuses, the two had been stuck with Caboose, and even Washington’s practices didn’t seem to hinder Caboose’s attachment to them.

 _At least there’s always Kaikaina_ , Tucker thought as he slipped into the pool with Church for aquafit. The girl barely listened to Wash, constantly talking back to him and ducking underwater when he tried to give her advice. The way Wash’s jaw clenched in frustration and his eyebrows pulled together in confusion every time she mentioned something about the police always made Tucker feel a little bit better.

The aquafit began once more with some tune made before the nineties. So far it seemed as if Wash had played a different CD per day, but every one remained void of music made in their current century.

Halfway through, Tucker heard an older lady asking Wash if he was hot on the pool deck, noting the small beads of sweat at the roots of his hair.

“Take your shirt off!” Tucker shouted before his brain could take control of his voice.

The glare Wash gave Tucker in response had a smirk slowly stretching across his face. The covered smiles of the older ladies in the class only fed Tucker’s satisfaction, as did the blush he could see creeping up Wash’s neck.

“I’m alright, ma’am,” Wash assured the lady who’d initially asked.

“Are you sure? I’m always so hot just sitting on deck!”

“And you don’t have your water bottle with you today,” another lady added. Tucker couldn’t stop his snickering even when Church rolled his eyes.

“It’s just in the guard room, ma’am, I can get it after we’re done. Okay, now switching to skiing tucks!”

They all switched to the new exercises, but the group seemed more concerned than ever over the potential threat Wash faced from the deck’s heat.

“My granddaughter was telling me the other day how dangerous heat exhaustion can be.”

“And dehydration.”

“The sun must be hitting you right on the back of your neck.”

“Won’t your shirt be all sweaty for the rest of your shift?”

“Jesus Christ, these ladies are perverts,” Church muttered.

True or not, Wash lasted another ten minutes before giving in. After telling them to switch to another exercise, he began to still as his fingers toyed with the hem of his guard shirt. Within seconds he had the fabric over his head before pulling it all the way off.

His abs and muscles hardly compared to pictures of body builders and male models in magazines and ads. But the lack of fat and leanoutline of muscles signalled the man did attend the gym regularly and took care to maintain a certain physical standard.

A sudden shout rose above the upbeat sound of Redbone’s vocalists singing over the speakers.

“Bow chicka bow wow!” 

The look Wash gave Tucker promised him a particularly nasty leg day on Monday.

***

The thing about in-services was that when the Director left Carolina or Tex in charge, the two hours could be a lot of fun. They would get through the required drills or practices, or discuss the patron complaints Carolina felt necessary, but they were also filled with antics anyone outside of work would disbelieve. It was something Wash tried to point out to Connie whenever she seemed particularly bitter about the in-services, which seemed to be most of the time those days. Sometimes she would let him recount something ridiculous one of them had done, like the time Florida and Wyoming managed to surf the cow shaped matt down the entire slide.

Or the time Carolina made them practice a spinal boarding on Maine, only to have them drop the board when he was strapped to it and watch in horror as he began to sink to the bottom of the pool.

Or the time South managed to convince Carolina to let them put the kayak into the pool, claiming she needed to figure out how to use it to teach the kids about safe boating. The whole thing simply turned into an excuse to capsize as many people as possible while she laughed, though Carolina made them stop after North somehow received a bloody nose **.**

A faint smile always tugged at the corners of Connie’s lips when she let Wash tell the whole story, occasionally snorting and interjecting with what she claimed to be the true order of events.

But more and more those days, she would cut him off with a scowl before he could even finish the first sentence. If they were on the way to the pool, she would either switch the topic to something school related, or lapse into a cold silence that sapped Wash’s voice of its strength. If they were on campus, meeting up for a coffee or to study, she would lose herself in her notes or pack up and leave for some professor’s office hours.

That Friday, Connie seemed to be in a better mood, if only because Carolina had announced the Director would be absent that day. She let South draw her into some banter, though her words were still tinged with sarcasm and an undercurrent of bitterness that sometimes broke through the surface. She let herself watch a few rounds of lifeguard shark rather than disappear as soon as the drills were complete.

And she let Wash swat at the end of her ponytail and tease her about the length, responding with a smirk as she grabbed him in a headlock and messed up his hair as best she could. The actions and his protests were as comforting as an old and loved book, for the exchange had been going since first year of university. Wash allowed himself to feel some optimism at her allowance and easy smile, even though she still insisted on being called CT at the pool.

Wash wanted to tell Connie that she was just unlucky, in that her human mistakes were always made in front of the Director. Wash managed to screw up in a spectacular fashion, but somehow managed to do it at the in-services where the Director remained absent. He would never be free of the lifeguards’ teasing for it, but Carolina never took away his shifts or gave him the cold shoulder like her father would.

His constant screw-ups with the rescue tubes were a testament to that. Walking on deck with them, the black strap dragged on the floor and tangled itself in his legs at least once a week. At that Friday’s in-service, the strap drifting beneath the water’s surface wrapped around his legs during a rescue without his notice. When Carolina attempted to grab the rescue tube from Wash, the strap only tightened around his upper thigh and sent him splashing backwards into the water with a strangled yelp.

“You are the _only_ lifeguard I know of that has gotten something stuck to his crotch during a rescue,” York laughed after.

Though Carolina ordered him to go through the rescue again, her face was red from laughter rather than anger. Wash wished the reprimands Connie got were just as reasonable, but knew she wouldn’t want to hear it.

After all the serious matters had been addressed for that day and they got tired of lifeguard shark, Wash let his eyes fall shut as he simply floated in the middle tank. His eyes flew open when someone’s bulk pushed him down and water covered his face. He sprung to the surface with a splutter, splashing the grinning York.

“Sorry sorry,” he laughed, rising his hands in surrender as Wash tried to grab his shoulders to return the favour. “I just had to get back at you for that last round.”

“Aw, come on, York, don’t drown the rookie,” North called from where he sat on the pool’s edge near them.

“I’ve been working here for almost three months now,” Wash reminded both of them, but the two ignored him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Connie smirking and shaking her head at him. They both knew by now that once someone was considered the rookie or babyof the staff, there would be no escaping it.

“So Wash.” Tex seemed to appear from nowhere, and Wash wheeled back a little at the sound of her voice. She treaded water inches away, resting expressionstill difficult for Wash to read. She still spent less time in the guard room, chatting or relaxing with the rest of them, and she still seemed to be at odds with Carolina.

“I hear you’ve officially appointed yourself the coach of the Blues’ water polo team,” Tex continued.

“Best part of the morning,” York told her, and Wash felt his face grow hot, both at the reminder of the frustrating practices and Tucker’s behaviour during aquafit that day.

“Really wakes you up,” North added. “Even Carolina was amused.”

“How’d you manage to get them to listen?” Tex asked.

“Uhh, well I tried to reason with them and I also might have mentioned you?”

“Oh?”

“He inspired the fear of you in them,” York explained, and Tex suddenly looked like a little kid who’d just been told she could have cake for dinner.

“I might have mentioned you wanted to play with them,” Wash said, scooting back just a little. “And that you would want to play against the Reds and Blues at some point and they should probably train to save themselves a shred of dignity.”

“I did tell Church something similar,” Tex said, pursing her lips a little at the thought. “Well now I really will have to come in some time.”

“Hey, York, Tex,” Connie interrupted, pulling herself through the water toward them. “Maine and them want you on the slide.”

York shrugged, but Tex remained still for a moment longer, gaze still locked onto Wash.

“So why’d you do it?” she asked, voice light and face still despite any curiosity she felt. Wash blinked.

“They were really frustrating to watch,” Wash replied, answers similar to the ones he’d given the Blues pouring from his tongue. “They have talent and they just did _nothing_ with it even though they have the time and they’re here anyways. And then Tucker would make a nuisance of himself–”

“Yeah, we’ve definitely heard that rant before,” North interrupted.

Wash shot him glare, but something in Tex’s soft expression sapped its strength. The way her shoulders relaxed and the lines around her eyes smoothed out for half of a second made him think she heard all the secrets hidden between the words that left his mouth.

He avoided looking at Connie altogether.

“Got it,” Tex simply said, and then began to swim off with York.

“Hey, Tex?” Wash called. He hesitated when she stopped and turned back to look at him.

 _You don’t know her_ , his mind reminded him. _Or any of the Blues._

He didn’t know anything about her personal life beyond the tidbits she shared sparingly, most to do with Church and his idiocy. Some stuff about dating him and visiting the place he shared with Tucker. Wash knew even less about Tucker, beyond the fact that he swore like a drunk sailor,roomed with Church, and liked to complain about _everything_ Wash made him do. He knew Tucker went to university, but nothing about his actual program or classes, or what he did outside of the pool.

Which meant his questions for Tex were irrevelant and even worse, hypocritical, given how little he shared his own personal information with the Blues.

Wash never had been very good at keeping his mouth shut.

“Why do you care so much?” he asked. “About Church doing aquafit and water polo, I mean.”

She stared at him without blinking, and he shifted a little closer to North. She seemed to be less willing to hurt him, at least.

“If Church was left alone,” she began slowly, and both Connie and York stopped to listen as well, “he’d hole himself up in some room and spend all his time, barely eating and barely sleeping. This way he’s getting out of the house, actually improving his physical health, and talking to someone who isn’t a computer program. The Blues are idiots, but they’re idiots that get him to leave his room.”

She started to turn away, but stopped to add one last thing. “Oh, and guys? If you ever tell any of them I said that, I will strangle you with your own intestines.”

With that, she began to swim away, York following a little more slowly. Connie gazed after her with a growing smile and something akin to respect widening her brown eyes, before also swimming after them. In the corners of his vision, Wash saw Carolina watching from the pool deck. For once, he could see no frown nor stiff shoulders when she studied Tex.

“You know,” Wash said as he turned to North, “I think she might be even scarier when she cares.”

North just laughed.

“Some people are like that.”

They watched together as Tex hauled herself out of the pool by the base of the slide and the others waved York up to the top of the slide. The slide itself curved first toward the wall and then out over the pool before dipping down into the straight chute at the end of it. At the end of that chute was a small board no taller than two upright pens stacked on top of each other.

Tex looked up at them with her hands on her hips, cocking her head slightly as Maine gestured to York when he reached the top of the slide. Then he began to sign to Tex. She nodded once, stepping into the base of the slide when water began to gush down from the top.

“Really, Maine?” Wash shouted up to him. The man didn’t even glance at him, just continued to throw more flutter-boards down the slide while Tex climbed up it.

The first time Wash witnessed the lifeguards breaking every rule of the slide they enforced had been on his first hour and a half break one Saturday in the summer. North had simply waved away his concern, flinging himself down on his stomach, face first. Within seconds, South got the rest of them to agree to a lifeguard chain while sitting backwards. Wash overcame his hesitation fairly quickly once he saw Carolina joining in.

“It could be worse,” North reminded him. “They could be sliding down at her themselves.”

“Don’t say that where South can hear please,” Wash said, wincing at the memory of smashing his face into the slide when she crashed into him as he tried to climb up it. The girl had just patted him on the shoulder and told him he wasn’t that bad for a rookie when he crawled out and curled on the deck with a throbbing chin.

They watched Tex pause halfway up the slide, crossing her arms over her chest in a clear taunt. A flash of colour going up the stairs caught Wash’s attention and he felt his jaw drop open.

“Okay that’s a bit extreme,” North said as he watched Maine position the rainbow coloured, foam log carefully before pushing it down the slide. The yellow frog mat was quick to follow.

“Just a bit,” Wash echoed.

Tex didn’t seem bothered, though. She just spread her legs and placed both hands on either of the slide, timing a perfect jump over both objects. Then she continued up the slide, catching and tossing back the balls Wyoming had found.

“If they try bringing the kayak up there, then we stop them.” They twisted around at the sound of Carolina’s voice by their shoulders. She glanced down when Wash pulled himself out of the water, but went back to watching the slide a few seconds later.

Making it to the top, Tex now spoke with Maine, Wyoming, and York. They shuffled around and gestured to the slide, seeming to try and reach some agreement about the order in which they went down the slide. After what looked like a lot of cajoling, York stepped to the front of the line and lowered himself onto his belly in the slide. His body disappeared from sight, but judging by the way Tex reached out to grab something, he remained near the top of the slide. Wyoming went next, Wash knowing they would all be holding onto each other’s ankles.

Maine towered over them before stepping backwards until his back pressed against the metal railing. A second later he suddenly lunged for the top of the slide, hands splayed in front of him so he could grab Wyoming and push all of them down the slide.

They came shooting around the last curve of the slide in under ten seconds. Wash had only a millisecond to realize they were still going too fast as they approached the end before York collided with the upright board at the end of the slide’s chute. Instead of stopping or flipping over it, he went sailing right through it and into the air. A cry of pain filled all of their ears as his face slammed into the metal grate where the water on the deck disappeared through.

“North, first aid kit right now,” Carolina shouted, already sprinting toward York’s prone form. North dashed away and Wash ran after Carolina.

The other three were in a pile at the bottom of the slide, and judging by the way Tex cursed and clutched her arm to her chest, the APM had done her best to the stop the other two from following after York. They climbed to their feet as everyone else converged around the groaning York. His hands grabbed at his eye, blood seeping between his fingers and dripping down his face. Numerous scrapes now slashed across his skin and he curled in on himself like a scared child.

Wash cursed when his foot kicked the slide’s board end and pain shot through his big toe. He blinked at the orange object and reached down to pick it up.

“It shouldn’t have just broken like this,” he said as he turned it over in his hands. He noted the way there were no jagged or broken ends, as if York had simply slipped the board off rather than ramming into it with the force of four moving bodies.

“I wonder how that could have happened,” Connie said from where she stood behind Wash. He glanced over at her, not liking the way she phrased it as a statementwith an obvious truth to it rather than a question.

“Both of you shut up for a moment,” Carolina snapped from where she knelt at York’s head. “Wash, get over here and help with the first aid. Florida, go call EMS. Face laceration and eye injury. South, go get my cell phone so I can call the Director.”

North returned with the first aid kit swinging from his hand, and Wash hurried to put on gloves alongside him. Carolina rested one of her hands on York’s shoulder, voice gone soft with attempts to comfort, but she moved away when the other two converged on him. North gently pulled away York’s hands as Wash swallowed and pressed a bandage to the eye with as much pressure as York could bear. North began to examine the other wounds while Carolina climbed to her feet.

“York, can you hear us, buddy?” North asked. A low groan and the barely audible “fuck” answered him. “Well, he’s semi-conscious at least.”

South returned with Carolina’s cell phone, handing it to her where she stood protectively in front of York’s form. She glanced down at the piece of technology in her hands as South stepped back to where Tex and Connie watched.

“The fuck happened to your arm?” South asked Tex, who shot her a glare.

“It’s fine,” she replied through gritted teeth.

“We’re not telling the Director exactly how this happened,” Carolina interrupted, finally looking up from her phone. They all stared, except for North who looked over York’s body for any more cuts or broken bones.

“And exactly what _are_ we supposed to tell him, my dear?” Wyoming asked, fingers stroking his black moustache.

“He slipped during a sit,” Carolina replied without any hesitation.

“And the end of the slide?”

“Maine hit it when he went down the slide and knocked it over,” Connie piped up. She held her head high when they looked at her. “We all know Maine’s bulk makes him go the furthest down the slide even when he’s on his own. The Director will believe it.”

“And that’s why York was running,” Tex said. Wash didn’t need to see Carolina’s face to know her lips would be parting and eyes widening when her gaze jerked to Tex. “The sit was a spinal in the slide and York slipped on the water that got splashed into the deck.”

“Water?” Wyoming asked.

They all turned around at the sound of water spilling onto the deck and saw Connie scooping handfuls of water out of the slide and painting the deck with them. She gave Wyoming a hard smile.

“Water,” she agreed. His lips twitched up.

“Good show, my girl,” he said before once again facing Carolina. “Very well then. I’ll go tell Florida of the change of plans, shall I?”

Carolina nodded and the man headed off to the guardroom where Florida continued to speak the EMS operator over the phone. He held up five fingers for all of them to see and Carolina raised her own phone to her ear.

“CT, go out front to meet the paramedics,” she told Connie. The girl moved off as Carolina knelt beside Wash who did his best to ignore his nausea at the sight of the blood soaking the bandage.

“Anything else?” she asked him and North. North shook his head.

“Nothing that I can see, boss.”

“Good.”

Half an hour later, the paramedics had safely loaded York into an ambulance and driven away with him and Tex. She needed to get her arm checked out and she offered to keep Carolina updated on York’s condition if Carolina covered the night shift. Despite her obvious worry and exhaustion, she agreed, ignoring everyone’s wide stares.

As the others got ready for the rest of their shift or to go home, Wash grabbed Connie in the hallways before she could leave.

“Hey,” he said. The faint sound of bells drifted through the air when she turned and the small keychains on her bag bounced against each other. “If everyone ends up hanging out tomorrow, do you want to let me know when you’re going? And if we’re all visiting York, we can bus together.”

Silence filled the space between them and her hand clenched around the strap of her bag.

“Sorry, Wash,” she said. “I told Chris I’d stay over at his place and we’re meeting during the day with his friends to study.”

The sincerity in her voice when she apologized killed his protests but did nothing to stave off the bitterness he felt beginning to eat his throat.

“Oh.” He coughed a little. “Uh, right, of course. That makes sense. Boyfriend time and all that.”

“I’m sure York will be okay,” Connie said, but made no move toward Wash or to say when she wanted to visit him.

“Yeah.”

“Good luck on your assignment this weekend.”

“Yeah thanks, you too.”

She went quiet but didn’t step away. Wash blinked when she opened her mouth to say more, but nothing stirred the air and she swallowed down her words seconds later.

“See ya.”

Despite the sudden churning in his stomach, Wash just watched her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor York, can't escape his eye injury even outside of canon. The Freelancers are a tad less obedient to the Director in this AU, at least when it comes to reporting on antics that could get their co-workers in serious trouble as in the case of telling him how York was actually injured. 
> 
> Once again, thank you for all your kudos, comments, and encouragement!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this one a bit early this week because I'll be too busy later to post when I normally do.

Nurse Hu wanted coffee, a hot meal, and shower sex with her girlfriend in that order. Unfortunately, she still had two more hours left of her twelve hour shift which meant foregoing such desires for longer than she would have preferred.

She strode through the halls with a clipboard in hand as she flipped through the records of the patients she needed to check up on. For a Monday, the hospital had been relatively quiet. Her colleagues told her she missed some exciting events on the weekend, but she didn’t need to see any more blood and bodily fluids than she already did on a normal day.

An anxious doctor brushed by her just as Nurse Hu reached the room of her next patient. The surgery for his eye went off without a hitch, according to her report, and his vitals were stable. They didn’t manage to save the vision in that eye, though, and she’d told the constant visitors as much.

She stepped through the door and came to a halt when she realized someone stood by the patient’s bed. The girl whirled around at the sound of Nurse Hu’s entrance, brown hair whipping into her face before settling past her shoulders. Judging by her stature and the faculty pins on the messenger bag she carried, Nurse Hu guessed the girl to be another university student.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Nurse Hu said, and stepped further into the room.

The girl shuffled aside when Nurse Hu moved toward the beeping machines to verify the patient’s vitals. He slept at the moment, bandages covering his eye and the slack muscles of his face.

“That’s okay,” the girl replied. She glanced between the man’s form and Nurse Hu’s scribbling. She offered the girl a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, all his vitals appear stable,” Nurse Hu said. “He’s healing remarkably well but surgery is a pretty exhausting ordeal to go through. It’s no wonder he sleeps so much.”

“Yeah.”

Silence filled the room and Nurse Hu looked up at the girl. She made no attempt to move closer to the bed or occupy the empty chair beside it. She just stared with an expression Nurse Hu couldn’t read, hands dangling at her sides and shoulders hunched in the slightest. In the bright, artificial light, Nurse Hu spotted the name “Connie” stitched into the messenger bag with brown and yellow thread.

“I’m sorry,” Nurse Hu offered as she finished her notes. “Accidents are really terrible things.”

“Accidents,” Connie echoed, voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

“He’s normally awake later in the afternoon,” Nurse Hu told her. “He was conscious for his visitors on the weekend when they came in the evening. A young woman always comes in after three, and he’s usually up then if you’d like to wait.”

“Oh no, that’s okay.” Connie smiled at her. “I was just leaving.”

She spared the injured man one last lingering look before stepping past Nurse Hu with a mumbled “excuse me.”

 

Connie nearly ran through the waiting room in her sudden desire to get out of the hospital as quickly as possible. Staring at York’s injury as he lay silent and unmoving had been bad enough, but the nurse offering her clueless condolences in an attempt to console finally pushed Connie far out of her comfort zone.

In the fresh air outside of the hospital doors, Connie took in a deep breath and closed her eyes against the sunlight. The sound of a car horn dragged them open, and she saw her boyfriend’s red car idling by the curb as he waited for her to get in. She hoisted her messenger bag higher on her shoulder before walking over and climbing in.

“How was he?” Chris asked. He waited for her to buckle her seatbelt before pulling away from the entrance and leaving the hospital parking lot.

“Alright, I guess.” She let her head fall against the cool window of the passenger’s seat. “He’s not gonna be able to see out of that eye, but he’s stable and he’s been conscious when the others visited.”

“He wasn’t awake when you were there?”

“No.” She straightened and didn’t elaborate on whether she preferred it that way or not. The topic of work continued to become a trickier and trickier one for Chris to navigate safely, despite knowing how much Connie cared for all of her coworkers.

“I know you wanted to go out for food tonight,” he said when she let silence descend on them, “but would you be cool with testing me on the murder case I have to know for tomorrow’s class before we get something?”

He brought the car to a slow stop as the light ahead turned red.

“Does the actual murderer get convicted?”

“Uh yeah, based on the evidence I’d say so.”

“Okay.”

The light turned green and they spend on through the intersection.

“You alright?” Chris asked.

She didn’t look at him, unfocused gaze staring at the pickup truck straight ahead of them. After chewing on her bottom lip for a few seconds, she released a long sigh.

“Yeah. Just sick of sad endings.”

*******

Wash didn’t know whether to be impressed or concerned that York showed up to in-service the week following his injury. The man waved away any of their doubts, showing them the goggles he’d disinfected and promised were enough to protect his eyes while in the water. The Director seemed satisfied with York’s word alone that the doctors’ had told him he could go back to work.

The others seemed fine with his answers, though Carolina pulled him aside for a brief, whispered discussion before the in-service began. But Wash’s opinion quickly solidified into one of concern when the Director left halfway through and South immediately voted they go on the slide.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea after what happened last time?” he asked, glancing over at Carolina for support. But Florida spoke with her and she didn’t seem to be paying attention to their conversation.

“Oh come on, Wash. They’ve fixed the board and everything.”

They still didn’t know _how_ the board had broken. Or if the Director did know, none of the other lifeguards had been told. Connie continued to put more and more distance between herself and the rest of the staff, but she still showed up for work. The texts she sent to Wash were less frequent, but they still reached him and he knew the academic year always forced people to retreat deeper into themselves.

“Yeah, but–”

“I think you’ve lost, Wash,” North interrupted before gesturing to the top of the slide. All of their gazes followed his pointing hand and Wash felt his jaw drop open.

York stood with a yellow mat at the edge of the slide, glancing down the stairs at Maine.As they watched, he placed the mat into the slide and grabbed the edge of the slide. Then he stepped onto the map, crouching a little to keep his balance.

“ _Really_?” Wash demanded, unable to keep his voice from going high as South started to laugh.

“Hell yeah, York. Way to show that slide whose boss.”

“Sorry, South, looks like the boss isn’t too happy about it,” 479er said from where she materialized behind them. She leaned on the handle of a mop, watching Carolina march to the bottom of the slide and mouth something to York.

York gave her a grin and small thumbs up. Maine stood behind him, and when he caught the others watching, he signed a hurried sentence to them.

_There’s only a fifty-fifty chance he loses another eye._

“That is the opposite of reassuring!” Wash shouted at him. In reply, Maine gave York’s shoulder a massive pat and York pushed himself and the mat down the starting slope of the slide.

He managed to stay upright for about three seconds before slipping back off the mat and onto his ass.

“Can I just point out that I called that?” Wash said.

“Don’t be mean to the injured guy,” North replied.

“New record for him,” South laughed as York chased the yellow blur to the bottom of the slide.

“South.”

“Oh, shut up, he’s perfectly fine. Come on, girls, let’s show them how it’s done.”

She latched onto Connie’s wrist and pulled the weakly protesting girl along behind her. 479er dodged back before anyone could grab, yelling something about only having one pair of dry clothes and no bathing suit.

At the bottom of the slide, Carolina offered a hand to the coughing York. Wash stood too far away to hear what either of them said, but he saw the smile on Carolina’s face and the way they held hands for a few seconds after York climbed out of the slide.

“Maine’s calling you, Wash,” North noted, and Wash looked up to see the man signing to him.

_Come on._

“Oh, no.”

“Sorry, Wash.” North’s hand clamped around his forearm and began to drag him forward. “Looks like Maine is cashing in that favour I owe him.”

“I really need to hear that story.”

“It involved hospital coffee, a hair tie, and a toothbrush. And that’s all I will ever say on the matter.”

***

“York.”

York smiled at the sound of Delta calling his name when he walked out onto the pool deck for the third Saturday of lessons. The boy didn’t quite run over, but he moved faster than a standard walk. He stopped right in front of York, wide gaze locking onto the lifeguard’s scarred eye.

“Hey, D. You miss me?”

“Are you really better?” the boy asked instead, a small frown appearing on his face. “I read it can take two weeks before you’re okay to go swimming.”

“Yeah, D, I’m right as rain.”

He lifted the green goggles to show the boy. “Just gotta disinfect these, wear them, and I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? That doesn’t seem very–”

“Just trust me, D. I know what I can handle.” The boy’s frown only seemed to deepen at that, but he didn’t make any further vocal protests. “So how are you?”

“I’m alright.”

They began to head to the pool, Delta lowering himself in without any hesitation once York climbed in.

“You have a good lesson with Carolina last week?”

Since she only had one group lesson herself that session, she had covered most of his lessons while he rested in the hospital. Delta ducked under the water before resurfacing to answer.

“She’s a good teacher.”

“Yeah, she’s one of the best.” York grinned at him. “She’s one of our managers, too. Lucky you, got a high up teaching you.”

“Oh.” Delta blinked at York. “You love her.”

York felt his mouth drop open slightly, and he sent a furtive glance over his shoulder to make sure Carolina wasn’t around. She seemed to be in conversation with a parent in the guardroom, and York breathed a sigh of relief before turning back to Delta.

“What makes you say that?”

Delta shrugged.

“You talk about her the same way my math teacher always talks abouthis wife. You both look really happy and have this strange smile.”

“Uh–” Found out by an eleven year old, excellent. Not that York hid his feelings for Carolina very well, and at least half the staff knew about his desires. But even if it seemed as if Carolina was growing more likely to return his sentiments, given that they weren’t in a relationship yet, he didn’t need anyone throwing around the l-word.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” York told Delta. “But maybe don’t say that around her, okay, D?”

“Why? When she told me a funny thing you did, she had the same smile as you.”

York reminded himself that interrogating a kid about the way someone _smiled_ was not the best course of action he could take.

“Cuz–well–sometimes us adults aren’t as open about our feelings as kids are.”

“Why?” Delta asked with a frown. “If you both love each other, then shouldn’t you tell her so you can be happy together?”

“It’s not as simple as that. It might actually make her unhappy if I don’t time it right.”

That only seemed to make Delta’s frown bigger.

“Theta always tells me he loves me. And my Aunt always tells me she loves me. And I always tell her I love her. My mom doesn’t say it very much but she says hugs are the same thing. I even heard Sigma say it about this book he was reading.”

York glanced at the clock, wondering how kids managed to derail every time-based plan. He couldn’t even feel as much frustration as he wanted given Delta’s genuine desire to understand something he had yet to experience.

“And everyone is happy whenever they say it,” Delta finished. “So I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, but those are different kinds of love, D. And–”

“I know that,” Delta interrupted. He shot York a look as if to say York was the one who didn’t understand the situation they were discussing. “They’re all different but they all make people happy. So why won’t yours?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Adults always say that.”

York nearly laughed at that.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it eventually.”

 “But–”

“But before that,” York cut him off. “We’ve got some swimming to do.”

“Oh.” Delta lowered a new pair of goggles over his eyes. “I’m sorry for wasting time. What do you want me to start with?”

Close to the end of the lesson, Delta hovered in the deep end as York caught up to him. The clock above informed them there were three minutes left of the lesson, and Delta spoke before York could.

“I know I wasted time at the start,” he began. “But could I try to get the whistle again? I didn’t get to try it with Carolina last weekend.”

For the second time that lesson, York felt his mouth parting suddenly. This time it curved up into a smile seconds later.

“We sure can, D.”

***

Delta hadn’t been lying when he told them Theta became attached very quickly. Ever since the first lesson, Theta greeted North with a shy smile, eager to demonstrate his swimming abilities to North. He constantly asked North if he would watch what he could do, and North did his best to space out time for Theta to perform little tricks in between swimming drills.

They were practicing his front swim in the lane closest to the wall when halfway through, Theta reached over to grab the lane rope. He gasped in a breath of air, but otherwise didn’t seem panicked or injured. North swam a little closer just in case, and opened his mouth to ask if the boy was alright.

“Delta!” Theta called before North could get any words out. Delta and York were practicing in the lane right beside them, and Delta came to a halt when Theta’s shout broke the air. “Delta!”

York raised his eyebrows at North who just shook his head.

“Theta–”

“Look what I can do now, Delta!”

Before North could stop him, the younger boy flung himself back into the water and started doing his front swim. North closed his mouth with a snap as he watched Theta apply all of the corrections North had given him for the first time that lesson. It only lasted a few metres, and then he started raising his head for a big inhale instead of breathing to the side like North had told him to.

“Huh,” North said as Theta grabbed onto the lane rope again. Theta looked over at Delta who gave him small smile.

“Good job, Theta,” Delta told him and the boy beamed. North glanced over at York who returned the look. “Keep listening to North, okay?”

“Okay.” He swam back to North. “Was that better, North?”

“Yeah, Theta. You breathed just like you’re supposed to.”

The Director was less impressed, waiting for them in the guardroom with arms crossed over his chest. Though his early morning visits were a rarity, they were much more common on Saturdays rather than during the week. He demanded to know why he had witnessed Theta hanging on the easily breakable and expensive lane ropes, and why there appeared to be collaboration between two private lessons.

Both of them, he reminded them, were aware of their policy, and how to facilitate a better lesson without interruptions.

“It was my fault,” York cut in before North could. “I know Delta and Theta are friends and when it seemed like Theta was struggling, I thought a little encouragement from Delta would help.”

“It’s North’s job to provide adequate encouragement and instruction as Theta’s teacher of a private lesson,” the Director replied. “As you should be focusing on your own student. I trust we will not have to have this discussion again in the future.”

He walked out of the guardroom without another look at the two lifeguards. For a moment, the only sound came from the muffled splashing and shouts that managed to penetrate the glass.

“You know,” North said. “Theta actually did a little better when he tried to demonstrate it for Delta.”

“And he only did it the one time,” York added. “It didn’t even take a minute out of the lesson.”

“Right. So would you say it’s that detrimental?”

“No, I have to say I wouldn’t.”

They looked at each other much as they had in the pool and shared a smile. The door to the pool deck swung open, and they both whirled around to see Carolina striding through.

“Just a piece of advice,” she said, “If you guys are planning something, you should really try to be less obvious about it.”

***

Tex and Omega reached a truce at the end of their first lesson when, after letting Omega do one jump off the diving boards as promised, Tex demonstrated her best backflip off the ten metre board. When she resurfaced, the adolescent stared at her with a gaping mouth and astonished swears hovering on the tip of his tongue.

“Sorry, kid,” she told him when he demanded to be taught flips. “I can’t teach you those until you’ve got your dives perfect. And those only get practiced after we’re done all our swimming.”

Which led to him listening to her instructions and performing the drills with a little less complaints and glaring, and a little more effort. Not perfect by far, and in the few lessons they’d had, he still showed up moody to each one. But at least now he would get in the pool without too much of a fight. He might not respect her, but he did appreciate her diving board abilities.

On the second day of lessons, Tex discovered it was best for herself if she had Omega start with the distance swim. The lengths gave him a chance to channel whatever pent-up energy fueled his adolescent rage, resulting in an exhaustion that made him much easier to control.

She repeated the strategy on the third day of lessons before starting on his back crawl.

“Good,” she said when he finished another lap. He put his feet down onto the floor and gulped down a handful of deep breaths. “That kick is better. But you’re still slapping the water with your arms.”

“So?”

“So I told you, it slows you down and makes your swim weaker. You don’t have to punch the water like it’s some boss monster in a video game.”

“Yeah, well I also don’t gotta treat it like some weak princess.”

“Omega. You’re trying to move through the water right?”

“Duh.”

“So how exactly do you think using all of your force when your arms are in the _air_ and then on the _surface_ of the water is going to help you do that?”

The boy went quiet, and Tex watched the frown appear on his face. She shifted, but didn’t allow herself to cross her arms. Posturing only worked well on Omega in specific incidents, and now it would only make him snarl back at her in blind defiance of a faceless authority figure.

“I’ll use force when they’re in the water,” Omega declared as if he thought of the idea on his own. Tex nodded, even though he began his back crawl again without glancing at her. She walked and then swam alongside him, watching the motion of his arms and legs.

He still hit the water harder than he should, but the way he screwed up his face implied an attempt at control.

She smiled.

It was a start.

***

The bond between Wyoming and Gamma solidified the moment Wyoming shared his own knock-knock jokes with Gamma on the second day of classes. Gamma still referred to everyone as a shisno, the tone he pronounced it in making it clear the word held an insult. But he didn’t call Wyoming one, and since the word seemed to be the made up one of a child rather than an actual slur, the lifeguard said nothing about it.

The other children who came with Gamma’s babysitter didn’t seem bothered by the word, and Vanessa responded by reminding him what happened when children were mean to each other.

“Excellent,” Wyoming replied when Florida asked him about his lessons. “Why, I’d even say they’re going swimmingly.”

***

“Hey, Maine?”

They treaded water by the end of the middle tank, Maine keeping an eye on the clock while Sigma worked to keep his head above water for three minutes. The teen continued to greet Maine with creative reasons as to why he couldn’t get in the pool before each lesson, but he always got in after Maine made his opinion clear. Sigma could swim well enough, though he performed a scissor kick when attempting a whip kick. At least he seemed willing to improve.

Maine grunted at him and Sigma nodded his head toward the guardroom.

“Who’s the guy in the suit?” Sigma asked.

_My boss._

“I thought those two girls were your bosses?”

_Deck supervisors, they’re in charge of us during our shifts. Director owns the pool and is the boss of all of us. He chooses the deck supervisors._

Sigma frowned at that before he said, “But I thought it was a public pool? Wouldn’t the city own it?”

Technically, the kid was correct. Even the sign outside the building claimed Blood Gulch to be a public pool and therefore city owned and maintained. And Maine didn’t want to share his suspicions with a kid, especially one who attended the pool. He didn’t want to tell Sigma he never saw any other employers from the city come to the facility or how they never attended full city trainings. He didn’t want to tell Sigma about the deal he suspected the Director had with the Chairman of the city’s aquatics so he could maintain full control of the pool and its events.

_Oh yeah. Sorry. You’re right. It just seems that way because I see him around so much._

Sigma dropped it, though the kid had a solid poker face that made it hard to tell if he believed Maine or not. Either way, he moved on to another question.

“Does he make a lot of money?”

_Don’t know._

“Do you?”

_Enough for me._

“So what does he do during the day?”

_Talks to the public. Does finances. Don’t know the specifics. Don’t care._

Sigma glanced at the Director again, gaze wide and eager to observe everything.

 _Why do you care_?

“He looks familiar,” Sigma said with a shrug. A little breathlessness entered his voice and Maine checked the clock again. Fifteen seconds left.

 _Ask your babysitter. Maybe she knows him_.

“She does know a lot,” Sigma replied with a nod. “But she doesn’t tell us everything.”

_Nobody ever does._

Sigma tilted his head.

“I guess so.”

_Okay, treading and talking are done. Back to swimming._

***

Wash didn’t spot Tucker at the pool for lessons until the third Saturday of the session. He remembered York mentioning it to him the Monday before the man injured his eye. The injury and then school had taken precedence over most other thoughts, and after spending a frustrating hour and a half arguing with Tucker every morning, Wash avoided thinking too much about him any other time of the day.

One of Wash’s fifteen minute breaks that morning occurred during the latter half of the class York taught to Tucker’s son. In the midst of toweling off his hair in the guardroom, Wash looked up and caught a glimpse of a familiar grin.After grabbing a swig from his water bottle and wrapping the towel around his shoulders, Wash took a seat in the guardroom and gave York’s class his full attention.

There were six children all without parents as they should be in the sea otter. York held one as he helped her perform a front float while the others bounced and splashed each other by the wall. Then there was Tucker and his son.

Wash hadn’t exactly reacted calmly to the news that Tucker had a son. In his defense, Tucker still attended university and Junior wasn’t a baby. Which meant it had been a teen pregnancy and Wash couldn’t help but wonder how Tucker’s parents and Tucker himself reacted to that one.

The fact that Tucker still saw the kid while going to university shocked Wash even more, and he wondered if he was being a judgemental asshole for such a reaction. After all their interactions in water polo and aquafit, which continued to be marked by loud arguments and complaints, Wash never would have seen Tucker as the father figure.

But as Wash watched Tucker work with Junior and coax him through the motions, he felt his shoulders relax and his doubt over Tucker’s parenting abilities seep away. A grin crossed Tucker’s face every time Junior accomplished even the smallest part of the exercise, and the young boy eagerly gave his dad a high five when offered the chance. Tucker moved Junior’s limbs into the proper place with gentle hands and low words meant to reassure.

All of the angry snark and defiant glares Tucker gave to Wash on a daily basis were hidden beneath mounds of affection when he worked with Junior. The smile Junior gave in return made the mutuality of the feeling clear.

“You’re staring,” North said when he returned from the washroom.

He plopped into the plastic green chair beside Wash and propped his feet up on the desk. Wash jerked at the sound and nearly toppled backwards in his chair before regaining balance.

“Am not,” he replied automatically, and then winced at the petulant tone. North just raised an eyebrow at him before following Wash’s gaze.

“That’s Tucker, right? I remember York said his kid was in his lesson.”

“Yeah. He’s a lot different with his kid.”

“Well you do yell at him a lot,” North pointed out, and Wash scowled.

“I would just like to point out that he started it with the way he acted in aquafit.” 

North rolled his eyes, but didn’t press the matter. He grabbed one of his worksheets and began ticking off items while Wash continued to watch York’s lesson. Tucker and Junior began to climb out of the pool just as Wash exited the guardroom for his next lesson. He stared when Junior headed straight for the grinning Kaikaina who sat on the benches. Wash hadn’t even noticed her watching the lesson.

“You were awesome today,” he heard her say to Junior. She offered him a fist to bump with his own. “You ready to head to the park and have an even greater time?”

The boy cheered and then spun around to give Tucker a hug.

“Listen to Kaikaina if she tells you to stop doing something,” Tucker told him. “But don’t listen to her stories or if she dares you to do something dumb.”

“Hey!”

Junior nodded before grabbing onto Kaikaina’s offered hand.

“Thanks,” Tucker told her. “Stupid papers with Saturday due dates.”

One of Wash’s students came running up to him, dragging his attention away from the conversation and back to where it belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> York is a little shit and you should definitely listen to your doctors if they tell you not to go swimming for at least 2 weeks after eye surgery. York listens to them as well in this fic as he does in canon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tucker?” Wash asked at the same time Tucker said,
> 
> “Holy shit, you mean you actually leave the pool?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a chapter that is actually Tuckington centric.

Thursdays were always the most exhausting days of the week for Tucker. Not only did he have practice and class in the morning, he worked eight hours at Mother of Invention, closing up the café at midnight.

Whoever originally designed Mother of Invention had never gotten the memo about what cafes were supposed to look like, in Tucker’s opinion. The walls were the same texture and colour as stainless steel, with only a few random pictures of fruit thrown up in a half-hearted attempt to look tasteful. Most of the wooden tables’ surfaces were cracked in some spot, and always sounded on the verge of entering the furniture graveyard. A ranking board occupied one full wall, though Tucker never knew what sport the board kept track of. Sometimes he watched the occasional hockey game with Church, but none of the team names he recognized were up there. He didn’t know who updated it, either.

His co-worker, Doc, only paid attention to the menu board and Andy was too much of an asshole to do anything extra unless he absolutely had to. Maybe the one who updated the board was Palomo or the mysterious owner Tucker never saw.

“I’m going now, Tucker,” Doc called from the doorway of the café, offering Tucker a happy wave. He was much too cheerful for someone who had just worked an eight hour shift, but after working both morning and night shifts with the man, it seemed to be his natural setting.

“See ya.”

He disappeared and Tucker headed over to the dishes piled on one of the tables. The tables and decoration might be shit, but the leather booths were comfortable. During the day, enough sunlight poured through the window to counter the dim lighting the café possessed. Palomo claimed the food and drinks made up for any lack of cozy atmosphere the place should have had, and while Church loathed to agree with any of Tucker’s co-workers, even he admitted the sandwiches were almost decent.

“Coffee tastes like shit, though,” he’d told Tucker, chucking the remote at Tucker’s head when he asked for it.

“All coffee tastes like shit,” Tucker had responded, which earned him a pillow to the face.

Tucker swore as he nearly dropped a cup, catching the handle just in time to keep it from smashing against the dirty floor he still needed to mop. Andy should have done it in the morning, but as usual, the asshole left all of the manual work for the afternoon and evening staff.

Tucker continued to pile the dishes into his bin, moving on to another table and taking the empty mug after a nod from the man sitting there. All table surfaces clear, Tucker retreated to the counter and dumped the dishes in the sink. He glanced at the still entrance to the café before turning back to his task. He kept looking down at his waterproof watch as he went, scowling when only a minute had passed each time.The time inched toward 10:30, and he told himself if he had already gotten through more than half of his shift, he could get through another hour and a half. 

Thursdays were awful, but at least he got to see Junior the day after. Which would be ten different kinds of exhaustion, but worth it for Junior’s smile and the warmth of his small body cradledin Tucker’s arms.

The little bell above the entrance rang and Tucker twisted around to catch a glimpse of the new people. His hands stilled when Washington filed in after a girl with long brown hair and guy with a badly done Mohawk.

The other two said a quick word to Wash before heading over to claim a booth. Wash turned to the counter, but came to a halt when his gaze landed on the frozen Tucker. He blinked while Tucker forced his hands to let go of the plate he’d been washing, and then made his feet carry him to the cash register. He wiped his hands on his apron just as Wash reached the counter.

“Tucker?” Wash asked at the same time Tucker said,

“Holy shit, you mean you actually leave the pool?”

Wash frowned at that, but not the deep scowl Tucker had seen pasted on his face for the past two weeks.

Improvement at practice had been minimal with Church absent, Caboose continually asking when Church would be back, and Tucker’s arguments with Wash. And of course, Kaikaina still only showed up for the scrimmages, insisting that she would only speak with Wash with a lawyer present. Sometimes Tucker got an eye-roll from Wash to his comments or the concealed beginnings of a smile, but it disappeared within seconds when he and Wash started yelling at each other.  

Tucker refused to think about the fact that the Blues seemed to be capable of lasting longer than the Reds if only by a few minutes now.

“I’m a university student, too, you know,” Wash said.

Tucker couldn’t help staring at his clothes, so used to seeing the lifeguard in nothing but a bathing suit or the lifeguard uniform. Now he wore blue jeans and a grey hoodie that hung off his shoulders and slipped past his thumbs. Now he looked just like Church or Tucker or any other guy Tucker saw around campus.

“I don’t know, I’m still pretty sure you’re some kind of weird pool alien sent to make my life miserable,” Tucker said, squinting at the clothes for emphasis. “You sure you didn’t steal those from Mohawk dude?”

“Chris? He’s not my size.”

“Sure.”

That earned Tucker the eye roll he was used to.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Wash told him, and Tucker shrugged.

“Not my fault you’re always at the fucking pool. It’s like seeing a teacher outside of school–not a prof cuz some of them can actually be pretty cool and they tell you about their families and shit so you know they’ve got lives. But like a high school teacher. They’re not supposed to exist outside of the school and it’s like some weird reality defying shit when you see them in a normal place like a shoe store like some other human being.”

Wash stared at him.

“You’re being completely ridiculous,” he finally said. “If anyone should be surprised, it should be me.”

“Oh please, I’m sure you heard all of us bitching about our work at some point these past two weeks.”

They might have worked at different places, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t revel in the similar bullshit they had to deal with. There was never a shortage of stories to tell about the bitchy customers, or pointless training in Grif’s case. Church didn’t have any stories himself, though Tucker didn’t know who sent him money given how little he discussed his family. But Church still enjoyed commenting on the general idiocy of the customers in their stories. Simmons never did because he was even more of a kiss ass at his work, but he listened.

None if it would ever make them quit, given how much they needed the money. OSAP, bursaries, or parents might pay for tuition, but there was still rent, food, books, and entertainment. For Tucker, there was also being able to provide for Junior when he saw him.

“Doesn’t mean I knew it was this place. Or that I would see you working.”

“It’s hard seeing how damn fine I look in this uniform, I know.” Wash looked ready to just give up on the drinks and send his friend over. Tucker let the smirk show on his face before speaking again.

“So what can I get Mr. High and Mighty today?” Tucker asked, turning away to reach for the cups.

The long exhale of air carrying an exhaustion beyond that caused by shitty water polo players had Tucker turning back around.

“You know, I’m just trying to help,” Wash said quietly. The slump of his shoulders and the way he played with the napkin in front of him stemmed the bitter snark Tucker meant to reply with.

“Nobody asked for it, dude,” Tucker replied. “And I don’t see why you’d want to do it anyway. We’re not even friends.”

“But you guys have so much potential,” Wash said. His shoulders straightened a little with renewed energy and he met Tucker’s gaze. “All of you, and the Reds too, could be so good if you would just _try_.”

“The Reds, too?” Tucker snorted, unsure what to do with the eagerness coating Wash’s words. Insulting the Reds was always a sound fall back plan.

“Grif has a powerful shot and good aim.” Wash refused to look away from Tucker, as if direct eye contact could transmit his sentiments into Tucker without the messiness of language interfering. “His bulk gives him an advantage if he would try without his sister there. Simmons can move fast and jump high to block passes, so he’d be an excellent defender if he didn’t get overwhelmed and try to guard more than one payer. Donut has long passes with good aim, but talks too much to everyone playing.Sarge just needs to focus more on the actual game and less on insulting Grif. And Lopez–well okay, I actually don’t understand a word he’s saying, but he seems like a well-balanced player and smart.”

Wash took a deep breath and Tucker blinked at the pause. “So yes, _all_ of you could be good if you tried.”

“Dude,” Tucker said slowly, “Has it ever occurred to you that we’re okay with being mediocre?”

The stare Wash gave him in response made it clear the lifeguard never had considered that possibility, and Tucker rolled his eyes. Fucking keener.

“But,” Wash began with a frown, “why not? It would be so helpful. It would keep your body active and healthy, give you something to put on your resume, and potentially get you a scholarship.”

Tucker laughed, and Wash grabbed his phone from his jean pocket. A few quick clicks, and then Wash was shoving the screen toward Tucker. He jabbed his finger at a line and smiled.

“See, scholarships.” Tucker snatched the phone from him, narrowing his eyes as he skimmed the paragraph and then glanced at the url. It was connected to their university.

“Did you like have this saved on the off-chance it ever came up?” Tucker asked, and handed it back. “How long have you had it bookmarked?”

Wash slid it back into his front pocket.

“I knew you’d doubt my reasons and I’m always prepared. As for my motives of revenge, I have plenty of eye witnesses from aquafit.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Tucker said, but the grin he kept off his face snuck into his voice.“But seriously, dude, just because there are scholarships doesn’t mean we’re going to get one. The university team is filled with pricks anyways.”

“I’m sure you’d get along perfectly fine then.” Tucker scowled a little at the dryness of the tone, but it was different from the one he heard at the pool.

No notes of superiority contaminated it, and it reminded Tucker of the way he often spoke with Church. He could imagine Wash speaking in a similar way with the other lifeguards or on break with his friends after class. Not to a man he despised and forced through endless drills out of spiteful revenge.

When Wash spoke again, any humour from before had been tucked away with his phone.

“I don’t mean to make your life miserable, Tucker–I just don’t think you should throw away the potential you’ve got,” Wash told him. “Not without giving it the chance you have, at least.”

Tucker didn’t need to be a psychologist to know his words masked some deep personal shit that Tucker didn’t want to go near. He could ignore the slumped shoulders, twisted mouth, and bitterness creeping into Wash’s voice. It was much harder, though, for him to think of a quick reply in the face of Wash’s sincerity.

Maybe being in an atmosphere where there was nothing for either of them to prove pushed Tucker’s next words past his lips. Maybe the words sprung from the knowledge that even if Wash stopped coaching water polo, Tucker still wouldn’t be able to escape the pool for a long while yet. Maybe Wash’s strange eagerness was what burned away the anger before Tucker could grasp at it to fuel his reply, leaving the unsettling thought that Wash might not have been as big of an asshole as originally judged.

Or maybe the words were fuelled by the recent memory of Junior’s excitement over getting to watch one of Tucker’s games at Church’s mention of it, and Tucker finding he possessed more energy for Junior’s rambunctious play.

“That’s a cool thought, I guess,” Tucker said. “But maybe ease off a little until everyone can actually appreciate the sentiment.”

Wash blinked.

“Are you…are you asking for a truce?”

Tucker sighed. He focused on the memory of Junior looking up from his army figures at the mention of Tucker playing a match, hope making his eyes wide, and excitement drawing a grin on his face when Tucker promised he could watch one.

“Well, you don’t seem to be going anywhere soon, and I would like to wake up at least one morning without feeling like I got run over by a fucking tank. And I’m getting sick of nearly drowning in practice.”

“You can’t tell me you’re not starting to get glorious calves because of it.”

Wash’s lips were curving just a little. It made Tucker think they were capable of having a conversation without feeling like they stood on the edges of two completely different countries, an entire ocean separating their two worlds’ of understanding and social standing.

“Yeah, but I can’t enjoy them if my life’s fucking miserable,” Tucker shot back.

“I guess so.” Wash stared at Tucker and he tried not to fidget. “I’m sorry if I made your life hell, Tucker. So okay. I’ll try to tone it down if you try to tone down…everything.”

“Wow, thanks, asshole,” Tucker replied, but he grabbed Wash’s hand when he offered it. “But deal.”

Tucker pulled away and reached for the cup he’d put down when Wash started explaining. “Now what the fuck do you want? Or did you just come here to stalk me?”

Wash rolled his eyes and rambled off three drink orders. Tucker went to work making them, glancing at his watch as he went.

“Oh yeah,” Tucker said as he gave Wash the first drink. He hesitated but the word _truce_ kept bubbling in his throat and pulling words up with it. “About the thing at aquafit on Friday–”

“I would have kicked you out if it bothered me that much,” Wash interrupted before Tucker could finish.

“In that case, let me just repe–”

“No.”

“Aw come on, man, I was just–”

“No.”

“One–”

“ _Tucker_.” Tucker gave him the remaining drink. “I swear to God, I will kick your ass, truce or not.”

“You know, I’m starting to see a very scary similarity between all you lifeguards,” Tucker told him. “And I think you guys need help. I know a great anger management guy. Didn’t work on Church, but it’s Church.”

“Goodbye, Tucker,” Wash said. He slid his money across the counter and took two of the drinks. He returned for the third, but Tucker was already helping the next customer.

***

“Who was that?” Connie asked when Wash returned with the final drink. He slid into the bench across from her, reaching for his bag to pull out his own textbooks.

“Tucker. The–”

“Guy in aquafit and water polo,” Connie interrupted before twisting around in her seat to study him. Tucker had his back turned to them, but Wash poked Connie’s arm when she continued to keep her gaze fixated on his back.

“Will you stop staring?”

“Huh,” Connie said in reply, and then turned back around. She stared at Wash over the rim of her latte. “Why were you talking to him for so long if he’s such an asshole?”

“He might not actually be as big of one as I thought.” Wash admitted. “We were working out a truce.”

“Huh,” Connie repeated, but pushed away any interest in the subject as she put down her cup.

She glanced in the direction of the washrooms where Chris had disappeared to, his coat piled beside her. She leaned closer to Wash across the table, pink highlighter tapping lightly on the surface of her open textbook. “So that Friday York got hurt.”

Wash stared at her, allowing confusion to scrunch up his mouth and eyes.

“It’s been nearly two weeks since then,” Wash pointed out. “York’s been clear to swim in the pool without goggles as of tomorrow.”

“But he’s never going to be able to see out of that eye again.”

“I know–”

“Besides that’s not the point,” she said, pushing strands of hair out of her face with a steady hand. “The point is, I was talking to 479er about it the other day since she wasn’t here last week. And she told me that before the rec swim that Friday, all the staff working at the time were called out into the front lobby by the Director, and then taken outside the building to talk about some of the graffiti that was there.”

“Oh yeah, I remember them being at the cash when I went to grab lunch,” Wash said. Her shoulders stiffened at that, but her words tumbled out even faster.

“Right, which means that the deck was completely empty for a good fifteen or twenty minutes because 479er got called outside too.”

“So?”

“So when does that ever happen during pool hours? So, when would Carolina have done her slide test?”

“She does it at one,” Wash replied. “Every day.”

She told the staff she did it so they could open up the slide exactly at 1:45PM as normal, even if she had to deal with something at the start of the rec swim that prevented her from doing the safety check then.

“Like clockwork,” Connie said with a nod. “So put that together, Wash. Nobody’s going to be checking the safety of the slide until the evening swim. The deck is completely empty for a good twenty minutes.”

“Are you trying to say,” Wash began slowly. “You think someone snuck into the pool and sabotaged the end of the slide? That’s why it came off that day?”

“I think you know perfectly well I don’t think it’s as ambiguous as a _someone_.”

Wash felt his mouth fall open, and he struggled to keep his voice lowered when he spoke again.

“You can’t be serious right now, Connie.” She just gazed at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “You honestly think the _Director_ sabotaged the slide?”

“Well obviously not him personally since he was with the others. But I’m some of the other building attendants would be perfectly willing to go along with him.”

“That’s ridiculous! You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” Her voice didn’t rise a notch in volume but her hand clenched around her highlighter. “Think about it, Wash! How else would that fucking board break when York hit it? And not even break, but come clean off. Someone has to have unbolted it or loosened it while we weren’t there.”

“Why the fuck would he do that knowing a patron could get hurt?”

“Because it’s a test!” Tucker turned around at the sound of her sudden shout, quickly snapping his attention back to the dishes when Connie glared at him. She turned back to Wash and took a deep breath before continuing.

“It’s a test,” she repeated. “Just like the training and in-services and lessons–it’s all a fucking test to him. I don’t believe for one second he doesn’t know about us going on that slide, even if neither Carolina nor Tex tell him. So he used that to see what we’d do. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he figured a bigger patron might hit in the rec swim. Either way, it’s all a test.”

“Connie–” Wash stopped, and shook his head. He kept trying to form coherent sentences but the anger tightening her whole body choked every attempt before he’d even strung three words together. “The Director wouldn’t do something like that–not after what he’s given us.”

“Oh, why don’t we talk about that then?” Wash jolted back a little, looking behind her shoulder but finding no Chris in sight. “Let’s talk aboutmaking you work more than forty hours without paying you overtime. That’s fucking illegal and I can bet he didn’t get the agreement signed by the Ministry of Labour.”

“You know he can’t. He doesn’t have the money.”

The acid in her laughter burned his skin as easily as chlorine.

“Yeah fucking right. You know he has other businesses besides this pool, and he’s supporting Carolina’s schooling until she joins the RCMP. Hell, we’ve all seen his car.”

“Connie–” He tried to push down the panic beginning to tear at his lungs. “You promised–”

“I know, I know.” She sighed, and her hand loosened around the highlighter. “I promised not to tell anyone. I’m not about to fuck you over, Wash, don’t worry.”

Before either of them could say anything more, Chris materialized at their table. Wash shot Connie a wide eyed look, but she just smiled up at Chris as if nothing had happened, and Chris thanked Wash for getting the drinks. He plopped down beside Connie as she moved down a little, bringing her books with her.

“How goes the studying?” he asked.

“Oh you know,” Wash replied, not sure whether to be relieved or worried when Connie simply returned to reading through her textbook.

The rage that had twisted her face kept overshadowing the words in front of him, and he couldn’t hear the shitty pop music of the café over her whispers. “Same old, same old. I got you an extra shot of expresso by the way–I know you were up late last night cuz of that essay.”

“Oh sweet, thanks, man. I definitely need that.”

Chris spread out his books in front of him before taking a few sips of his drink. He glanced over at the mess of notes covering every bit of surface in front of Wash and grinned.

“Looks like you’ve got an extra whip cream night ahead of you,” he said, and Wash gave him a tired smile. He raised his cup so Chris could see the mounds of white fluff swimming on the surface of the liquid.

“You know me, the sweet tooth only gets worse during the school year.”

“That’s school for you.”

“Just wait till grad school,” Connie interjected, some of the warmth returning to her voice. “I’m sure we’ll all be hating our lives even more.”

“I don’t even want to think about it,” Chris groaned, and Connie gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder without looking at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Connie will be there to spoon-feed you caffeine before you have a nervous breakdown,” Wash teased him, and Connie snorted. “Okay, she’ll kick you and then burn down the kitchen in an attempt to make you some nice dinner. I will send you coffee from afar to avoid the fire.”

“Thank you both for all your support,” Chris replied sarcastically.

The small smile on both his and Connie’s faces made it easier for Wash to push away Connie’s earlier words and focus on his schoolwork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your encouragement, it means so much to me!
> 
> According to the Ontario Ministry of Labour, an employee must sign an agreement with their supervisor if they are working more than 40 hours a week. If you work 48 hours or more, than you have to get said agreement approved by the Ministry of Labour. In terms of payment: "For every hour you work over 44 hours a week, your employer must pay you at least 1½ times your regular rate of pay ("time and a half"). Even if you agree in writing to work more than 48 hours a week, your employer must pay you overtime pay for every hour you work over 44 hours a week."


	9. Chapter 9

“–never playing at the arena again,” Church finished, slamming the dishwasher shut for emphasis. “Got it, Tucker?”

“Huh?” Tucker removed his head from the fridge where he’d been searching for celery to cut up for Junior. Grocery day had been two days ago, so now their tiny fridge was packed with container upon container of food. The left-over pizza boxes took up a large chunk of space, and Tucker wished its health value was equal to Junior’s love of the food.

The kid sat in the living room with Caboose, blank pieces of paper spread out all around them as they drew furiously with crayons and pencil crayons. The sagging couch stood at their backs, small TV turned off for the time being. Not much else occupied the living room except for two blue bins Tucker and Church stuffed with toys and crafts for Junior’s visits. The small coffee table had been shoved against one wall as Junior and Caboose preferred to sit or sprawl on the floor to do their colouring.

“Simmons is never allowed to pick the stadium for any game ever again,” Church told him.

Church moved around Tucker to grab some plates from the cupboards above their counters. There were three peeling cupboards above the counter and three below, filled with a mess of food and cooking utensils. The small kitchen seemed crammed enough with just the two of them, and they had shoved a small folding table and two chairs into one corner where they ate most of their meals.

 “So don’t fucking leave me alone to stop him,” Church finished, setting the plates down beside the sink.

The only window in the kitchen sat above the sink, feeble daylight spilling through the glass. Sometimes Tucker found Junior curled up in that small patch of sunlight like a cat would, and the boy’s squeals would soon fill the air as Tucker swooped down to tickle him.

“I had to go to the washroom!” Tucker said. “What did you want me to do, pee on him?”

“That is very gross, Tucker,” Caboose called from the other room. “You should not do that or everyone will get very sick.”

“I _wanted_ you to help me grab the controller from him since Grif was being a lazy asshole and refusing to help.”

“Were you actually expecting him to move?”

“Somehow, I still had a tiny grain of optimism.”

“Holy shit, dude, are you feeling okay?”

“You should go to sleep if you are sick, Church!” Caboose shouted. “And I will make you some soup and the train will bring it to your mouth.”

“I’m not sick, Caboose!” Church yelled, sticking his head into the room when Caboose seemed ready to get up. “See? Just stay there and help Junior draw his–”

He stopped and studied the picture that looked as if someone had simply placed crayons between their knuckles and dragged their hand across the page. The only thing decorating their living room and kitchen walls were Junior’s nonsensical pictures, many of them strategically placed to cover the worst of the cracks and holes. “Tucker, what the fuck is your kid drawing?”

“It’s the pool,” Junior told him while Tucker made a noncommittal grunt. He finally spotted the celery, grabbing it and pulling away from the fridge with a cry of victory. He shoved Church out of the way so he could show Junior and offer him a grin.

“Guess who’s getting ants on a log today?”

“You are so weird,” Church informed him, but he handed Tucker the peanut butter before the man could go looking for it. “Junior, why’s the pool got all those colours?”

“It’s the water.”

“Which are filled with mini rainbows,” Caboose explained. He frowned at his own picture, shading in a tree with so little precision, Church wondered how the guy managed to do so well in his course.

“What the fuck, Caboose, you’re in the pool every day. There’s no rainbows in it.”

“Dude, why are you fucking with my kid’s artistic integrity?” Tucker demanded.

At the kitchen counter, he began to cut the celery into slices half as long as a new pencil. More than half of their few utensils lay in the sink or the dishwasher, but Tucker had managed to find one clean knife in their drawers for the task. Once the pieces were cut, he began to slather each piece with peanut butter, ignoring the brown paste getting on his own fingers.

“Please, Junior knows I’m just messing with him. Right, Junior?”

“Right,” Junior said. He glanced up from his picture, crayon smeared across his chin. “Daddy says I should never take you seriously.”

“Gee, thanks, Tucker.”

“Just teaching him the basics of life,” Tucker replied, ducking away from Church’s swinging arm. “Did you take all the raisins?”

“No, you know I fucking hate those things.”

“Caboose!” Tucker crouched down and peered into the cupboards beneath the kitchen countertops. “Did you–oh wait, found them.”

He straightened up and began to place the wrinkled food on top of the peanut butter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Church roll his eyes before beginning to fill two cups with milk. Tucker watched as his roommate carried the cups out to the artists before warning Caboose not to spill milk unless he wanted to experience torture he couldn’t mention in front of a child. When Caboose began to ramble about how clean he was and Junior protested his maturity, Tucker brought the food in.

“Okay, everyone enjoy the food I slaved over,” he said, placing the plate in between Junior and Caboose. Junior eagerly grabbed for a piece and shoved it into his mouth, Caboose waiting for the child to grab one before he took his own.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Junior said through a mouthful of food.

“You’re gonna choke if you keep talking with food in your mouth,” Tucker reminded him, sitting beside him and letting his legs splay out in front of him. The couch dug into his back, and Tucker shifted a little to get comfortable.

“Are we gonna go swimming soon?” Junior asked, this time once he’d swallowed down all his food.

“Once you’re done your snack we can go.”

“You planning on going every Sunday for the rest of your life?” Church asked Junior.

“Yeah,” the boy answered, as much conviction in his voice as it had whenever he told Tucker he loved him.

“Don’t worry, Junior, Church promised he’d come this time and let you jump off his shoulders as much as you wanted.”

Tucker just smirked when Church scowled at him. Before he could snap at him, Caboose said,

“I like the pool. Washington is very nice to me, and always asks if I’m feeling okay before we practice.”

Both men stared at him while Junior continued to munch on his snack and move his gaze between all three of them.

“He does?” Tucker asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

He knew he shouldn’t be so surprised after Wash had attempted to make good on their truce at Friday’s practice. Wash hadn’t stopped doing drills or yelling at them to try harder, but he turned down the intensity just a few notches. Not enough to keep Tucker from complaining, but enough that he managed to make it through the practice without feeling like he wanted to stab Wash with a sword. His muscles were still aching, but not a sharp pain that stole his breath or made him consider never moving from bed again.

Caboose nodded.

“I think it is because I told him about someone dropping a part on Lopez’s foot when we were working on Freckles and how I thought he was swearing really loudly but I couldn’t really tell because he was still speaking in Spanish. And then he had to leave even though Freckles is really close to being done, and he came back to class the next day with his foot all wrapped up and that’s why he’s just been watching practice.”

“By someone, do you mean you?” Church muttered, but Caboose was too wrapped up in his story to hear.

“So now I think Wash is worried about me getting hurt in class, so he always asks if I am okay to swim. But I told him Freckles is my friend, and that means all the parts are my friends, so they will not hurt me!”

“Can we get a car?” Junior asked into the ensuing silence while Tucker struggled to think of the appropriate response to Caboose’s story.

“No,” Tucker said.

“A dog?”

“Hell no,” Church responded before Tucker could.

“A cat?”

“No.”

“A–”

“No pets, Junior. You know we can’t take care of one.”

Tucker forced himself not to sigh when Junior hunched his shoulders. He nudged them with his own, and then kept rocking into him until Junior looked up with a scowl.

“Go get your bathing suit on, okay?” Tucker said. “We can go swim now.”

That made the scowl fade a little, and Junior scrambled into Tucker’s room to grab his stuff. Tucker stood up a few seconds later to follow, but stopped when Caboose spoke up again.

 “Tucker, you’re out of white crayons.”

“What the fuck, dude, you’re drawing on white paper. Just don’t colour in whatever part it is.”

“But I’m drawing a snowbank.”

“So?”

“So snow is whiter than paper so I need a white crayon to make it better.”

Tucker closed his eyes and listened to the sound of Junior rummaging around his room for a few seconds before finally deciding on his answer.

“Church, help him.”

“Fuck you,” Church called as Tucker headed into his room to help Junior. His room wasn’t much bigger than any of the others, most of the precious space taken up by his bed, dresser, and desk. There still enough clear patches of carpet, though, for Junior to dump his toys and clothes on whenever he finished with them.

There was silence for a few blessed seconds while Tucker helped Junior shove his towel and goggles into Tucker’s backpack.

“Tucker!”

“Oh my god, what?”

“You’re out of pink crayon.”

***

When North walked into the guard room fifteen minutes before the afternoon recreational swim on Sunday, the sound of Taylor Swift’s newest single greeted his ears. He paused a few steps into the room, door swinging shut behind him, and York twisted around in his chair to give him a wave.

“Who let you take control of the computer?” North asked.

He dumped his bag onto the first aid cot before moving closer to where York sat at the room’s computer. Three tabs of Youtube were currently open on Google Chrome, and York raised the volume with a grin.

“South and CT left to get lunch at Mother of Invention. Carolina’s swimming lengths.”

“Uh-huh.”

Five minutes later, Carolina returned to the room, water dripping from her hair and swimsuit. She listened for three seconds before stomping over to York and stopping in front of him with her hands on her hips.

“No,” she told him.

“Aww, come on.”

“I hear enough of these–” She glanced at the title of the Youtube playlist. “–top 40 hits on the radio.”

“And from your phone, York,” North added, “ _and_ from your mixed CDs.”

“Oi, if York’s choosing music, I get to pick next song,” South called from where she entered with bags of food in her hand. CT followed behind her where she carried a tray of steaming drinks. She handed one to Carolina and placed the other two on the desk.

“What, nothing for us?” North asked. South snorted, shoving into his shoulder as a way of greeting.

“I’m sorry, did _you_ have to deal with all those whiny bitches at women’s swim today?”

“It wasn’t that bad today,” CT argued. She tore open one of the food bags South tossed her, giving Carolina a wrapped sandwich before biting into her own. “Nobody drowned at least.”

“Still had to wake up before 10 on a Sunday after out-drinking everyone here.”

“You out-drank _York_ ,” Carolina said. “That’s hardly an accomplishment.”

“Hey!”

“Stop hurting my ears with that shit music and I’ll stop hurting your ego.”

He sighed, but when she didn’t move from her position, York pressed the pause button. He ruined any attempts at acting the self-martyr, though, when his whole face softened at the sight of Carolina’s small smile. North caught South’s eye, and she made gagging gestures before throwing herself into the green plastic chair beside CT.

With a shake of his head, North began to remove more chairs from the stacked pile for himself and the rest of the guards who had yet to show up for the swim. York took one with vocal gratitude, placing it by the computer where he could easily chat with Carolina.

When the recreational swim began at 1PM, Carolina forced North and York to guard first, on the account of their music tastes and having not guarded that morning. Wash had arrived five minutes before the swim and curled up on the cot with a grunt in their direction. The guy hadn’t even drank much the night before, but he had barely been able to keep his eyes open all night. Only the start of October, and the combination of schoolwork and long work hours were already beginning to affect their rookie.

“Shotty middle tank,” York called before North could get a word in. North glanced toward the benches and took note of how young all of the patrons appeared. Only a few wore the green wristbands that signalled they were capable of swimming in the deeper end of the middle tank.

“Fine fine,” North said, and headed over to the shallow end with his rescue tube. At the sight of the lifeguards, everyone climbed to their feet and rushed toward the water.

North grimaced at the sight of the pool rats, Felix and Locus. The two boys would be graduating high school that year, yet they still came to at least half of the recreational swims during the week, and possessed less maturity than Theta. They spent most of the rec swims mouthing off to each other or the lifeguards, Felix constantly doing as many tricks as possible off the diving boards and bragging about it to everyone within ear shot. Any time a lifeguard tried to tell them off for something, they would insist that the _other_ lifeguard told them they were allowed to do it.

North watched them both do a cannonball directly in front of York as the other lifeguard scrambled backwards in a desperate attempt to avoid getting splashed.

“North!”

He turned around at the sound of Theta’s excited shout, and spotted him dashing out of the change room with the rest of the kids and Vanessa Kimball in tow.

Since the second Sunday of the session, the boy and other children Vanessa babysat had been showing up for the Sunday rec swims as well as a few during the week. Sometimes the older children like Sigma and Omega were absent on the weekends, but Theta and Delta were always present. York had told North that Delta was being raised by a single mother so that might explain his need for a babysitter even on the weekends. Theta rarely mentioned his home life despite how much he liked to tell North about his school and the other kids at his babysitter’s, so his reasons for being at a babysitter’s even on the weekend remained a mystery to North.

“Hey, Theta,” North greeted him with a smile when the boy reached him. Theta beamed up at him, and Delta headed toward York. “How are you today?”

“Good! Ms. Kimball’s gonna take us to the movies after and Delta said he was gonna buy us popcorn.”

“That sounds great. What movie are you guys seeing?”

Vanessa wandered over just as Theta finished describing the trailer of the movie, eagerly providing sound effects as his hands gestured for each action.

“Now, Theta, remember what they said about talking to the lifeguards when they’re supposed to be working,” she reminded him, though her tone remained as gentle as it had been when trying to convince him to be good for North on the first day of swimming lessons.

“Sorry,” Theta told both of them.

“That’s okay, Theta,” North replied. “Hey, why don’t you go grab that matt before any more kids come?”

Theta hopped into the pool, and Vanessa climbed in after him. The boy splashed his way toward the frog shaped matt, flinging his body onto it. He started calling for Delta, pushing the matt closer to where North roved across the deck. They were lucky that even on Sundays, the swims at Blood Gulch Pol rarely got as busy as other city pools. With significantly fewer patrons, the guards were capable of listening to their privates’ chatter when they showed up.

It also meant North really could spare a few glances for all of Theta’s tricks, as the boy spent all the rec swims showing off as much as he could for North, grin never fading from his small face.

***

Wash didn’t know whether it was a benevolent coincidence or a negative one that Tucker and his kid arrived on deck for the rec swim just as York took over Wash’s position. With a fifteen minute break until he had to guard again, Wash couldn’t use his job as a mask to hide behind if Tucker decided to move from staring at him to talking to him.

Well, technically Wash was still on duty, but speaking with Tucker could always be excused as simply speaking with another patron about the rules.

The fact that Caboose wore sneakers on deck made Wash’s decision for him, and he wandered over to the group standing by the benches.

“Hey, Caboose,” Wash greeted him, and the college student gave him a wide smile in return. “Remember what I told you about outdoor shoes?”

“Oh yes, you said we cannot have them on deck because they make everything very dirty and people complain!”

“Right.” He waited, but Caboose didn’t say anything more. “So the shoes you’re wearing…”

“Oh.” He glanced down. “I forgot I hadn’t taken them off, they’re so comfortable it feels like they are my own feet!”

“That’s–that’s okay, just go put them in your locker, alright?”

“Yes, I will do that.” He started to turn, but then paused and tugged at Church’s arm. “Uh, Church? Which one is our locker?”

“Oh for the love of–”

He stomped off with an angry curse with Caboose in tow, leaving Wash with an amused Tucker and a small child hiding behind his legs.

“So,” Wash began, and then hesitated. “This is your kid?”

“This is Junior,” Tucker replied. His tone stayed light but the smile vanished. “Hey, Junior, this is Wash. My water polo coach.”

The boy shifted a little further away from Tucker’s leg to give Wash a curious look.

“You’re teaching my dad?” he asked, and Wash nodded. “He says I get to watch his team win when they get really good.”

“Oh, did he?” Wash shot Tucker a smirk, and the man rolled his eyes in reply.

“Hey, Junior, can you put our stuff on that bench over there?”

The boy straightened a little at the request, hugging the bag to his chest once Tucker gave it to him, and hurrying over to the bench.

“He’s really cute,” Wash said in the following quiet. It was true, but he mostly said it because he thought that was something people considered an appropriate response to meeting someone’s kid. He looked over at Tucker who stared right back at him, body gone still except for the fingers digging in and out of his thighs. “How old is he?”

“Five.”

“So–”

“He was born when I was in high school,” Tucker interrupted before Wash could think of a reply. He didn’t look away from Wash, and Wash forced his shoulders to relax in the face of Tucker’s sudden tense ones.

“I may be in kinesiology, but I can still subtract small numbers, Tucker,” Wash said, careful to mould his tone into the dry tease he used with Connie and the other lifeguards.

“Huh.”

“What?”

Tucker shrugged.

“Most people tend to respond to that with something along the lines of how big of a dumbass I am and how young I must have been and why I let her keep the kid.”

He said it in the same tone he might use to list of his café’s daily specials, but Wash saw the way his fingers continued to press against his skin as if to stop them from becoming fists.

“Well, I definitely think that seems really young,” Wash replied, knowing Tucker would probably see and respond to any lie with a snarl. “And when I first saw him with you I wasn’t exactly the least judgmental person. But I realized I don’t know anything about your personal situation and, well, you both seem to adore each other. At least from the swimming lessons I’ve seen.”

“Huh,” Tucker repeated.

His fingers paused and then disappeared into the pockets of his swim trunks. He glanced over at Junior who had wandered over to the toy bin and now looked between a red and blue shovel, as if trying todecide which of the equally sized toys were better. Tucker turned back to Wash, and whatever he found in Wash’s expression caused his shoulders to ease down a little.

“I, uh, got a girl knocked up at a party in grade ten,” Tucker blurted. He kept glancing behind him to make sure neither Junior or the other guys were back, but his gaze always returned to Wash’s face. “We were both really fucking drunk and really stupid and yeah. Nine months later, Junior happened.”

“Kaikaina?” Wash guessed, and Tucker’s jaw fell open.

“What–Jesus Christ, no,” he spluttered. “She would have gotten an abortion if it was her, and I wouldn’t be _alive_ to tell you about it. She would kill me and then Grif would desecrate my body.”

“Sorry, I didn’t–I wasn’t–you two just seem really close,” Wash managed to spit out as he felt a blush colour his cheeks. “And she’s the only girl I’ve seen you around regularly and Junior seemed pretty close to her when I saw her here earlier so I just–I assumed.”

“Oh well you know,” Tucker said. Wash’s fumble seemed to amuse him because he began to shift from his heels to his toes with a smile on his face. “Not saying I wouldn’t totally bang her if given the chance cuz bow chicka bow wow. But that chance is very miniscule at the moment and I didn’t know her back then. She just really likes Junior and since we all know each other, she helps me out when she can. You know, takes him out for a bit if I need an hour or two to get my own shit done or nap or whatever.”

“Do you have full custody?”

“Nah, I don’t have the money for that and university. I barely have the money to take care of myself at is it is. His mom gets him during the week and I get him on weekends. Pick him up after school Friday and she picks him up Sunday night.”

“Is his mom in university, too?”

“Yeah but her parents–well they were pretty pissed, but they’re also against abortions and pretty well-off, so they let them both live at their house. Take care of him when she’s at class and help pay for everything.”

Tucker didn’t offer anything about his own parents, so Wash didn’t ask. Junior returned a few seconds later before either of them could fill the air with words, and Wash smiled at the blue shovel he clutched in his hand.

“Found some awesome toys?” Tucker asked, and crouched down so Junior could show him the shovel. Wash imitated Tucker to try and keep the boy from feeling like an ant beside a giant.

“I like your swim suit,” Wash said, gesturing to the superhero figures posing on the fabric. Junior moved his attention to Wash, letting Tucker hold the shovel for him. “Which one’s your favourite?”

“Hulk,” Junior replied after a quick glance at Tucker. When Tucker smiled at him, the child grabbed the handful of fabric that had the Hulk on it, and stretched it out so Wash could see. “He’s really big and really strong and he always says 'smash!' really funny.”

His voice grew louder with each word, as if the figure of the Hulk alone was enough to transfer some of the fictional character’s strength into Junior. “But sometimes he’s Bruce and he’s really smart, and sometimes people are scared because he’s really angry and breaks stuff.”

“He does break a lot of stuff,” Wash agreed.

“But he still has friends. And he tries to be good, which Daddy says is very important to do, even when I get angry and sad like him.”

“That is very important,” Wash said, and Junior nodded.

“Which one do you like bestest?”

“Well, they’re all very cool, so that’s hard. I like the Hulk as well. But I also really like Captain America.”

Junior scrunched up his nose and frowned.

“But he’s boring.”

“He took down the Red Skull and Hydra before the Hulk and the Avengers were ever born,” Wash replied. “He is very funny if you listen closely. And he always does the right thing no matter what.”

Junior looked down at the picture on his shorts and Wash smiled at him. “Just because someone is quieter than the others doesn’t make them a boring person.”

 “Getting a little defensive there, Wash?” Tucker asked with a smirk.“Gotta say, I never thought you would get into an argument about a kid’s cartoon.”

“There’s not just cartoons, you know.”

“Daddy and I watch them every Saturday morning,” Junior told him. “With Lucky Charms and chocolate milk. Do you?”  

Wash hesitated for a second, and he saw Tucker’s smirk waver before it spread even bigger than before.

“Holy shit, you do!” Tucker said, and Wash winced a little at the sudden increase in volume. “You fucking–oh my god.”

“But so do you, Daddy,” Junior pointed out with a frown, and it was Wash’s turn to grin when Tucker’s words abruptly died down.

“Okay, you got me there,” Tucker said. “Gotta say, I never would have seen you as the type, Wash.”

“You don’t really see me outside the pool, Tucker. I doubt you act the same at home as you do in front of customers.”

“Not my fault you’re _always_ here. I figured you wouldn’t have time for something as happy as cartoons between all your lifeguarding and school and yelling at people.”

Wash wanted to snap back, but Junior stood between them and Tucker’s own voice hadn’t sounded angry. The grin didn’t fade from his face, and he seemed to simply be teasing just as much as York always did about Wash’s cats.

“Well, I work Saturday mornings so I don’t get to watch them then,” Wash told Junior. “But sometimes I watch reruns later.”

“Oh.”

“You guys aren’t in the fucking pool yet?” Church’s loud voice interrupted their conversation as he wandered back over with Caboose. “Aren’t you supposed to be working, Wash?”

“I was about to ask the same question.”

All of them whirled around at the sound of Carolina’s low voice. She stood inches away from Wash, arms crossed over her chest as she glanced between all of them.

“I do believe you’re supposed to be guarding soon, Wash,” she told him. He swallowed, but caught a glimpse of amusement tugging at her lips and flickering in her green eyes.

“Right, yeah, I was just–” He made a helpless gesture toward the others standing there.

“I had a question about going into the slide with Junior,” Tucker piped up, and Wash forced his jaw close when Carolina turned her gaze back on him. “And about going into the deep end with him.”

“Right,” she said. “Well if you still have any questions, I’d be more than happy to help.”

“Uh, no, I think we got it.”

“Good. I’m sure you’ll guys have plenty of time to socialize at Monday’s practice.”

Wash took that as his cue to hurry over to York as fast as he could. Tucker watched him go, taking a step closer to Junior without conscious thought when the woman turned her smile back on them.

“Glad to see you’ve become a pool rat, coz,” she said to Church with a smirk.

“Better than working here,” Church replied, and she laughed at that.

“It means I get to tell you off if I want to, though.” With that, she returned to the guard room and left Tucker to stare at Church for an explanation.

“Carolina’s my cousin.”

“ _That’s_ your cousin?”

Though Church rarely spoke of his family, Tucker knew the basics by this point. Mainly that he had a cousin named Carolina, her parents’ and Church’s parents extremely close during Church’s childhood. Tucker knew Church stayed in contact with Carolina, occasionally disappearing for the day and later telling Tucker he’d been at Carolina’s home for a meal with her and her father. But Tucker had never met her, never gone to her home or had her at their apartment.

“Dude, why didn’t you just ask her about when Tex worked when Tex first transferred here?” Tucker asked.

“They don’t get along,” Church said, and the scowl made Tucker reconsider pressing the matter.

“Okay, so both your cousin and your on-off girlfriend work at this place? Christ, next you’ll be telling me Wash is actually your brother.”

He stopped when Church said nothing, and Junior began to tug on his hand to get them into the pool. “Uh, he’s not, right?”

“Don’t worry, Tucker, you don’t have to worry about any of my blood relations getting in the way of your fucking crush.”

Tucker rolled his eyes, but let Junior pull him toward the pool rather than respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Women's swim: Women only swim that happens every Sunday morning at the pool, specifically from 11am-12:30pm. Originally created for women who cannot wear swim suits around men due to religious reasons, but any woman over the age of 13 is welcome. All windows to the lobby and outside are blocked off by curtains.
> 
> Pool rats: term used by lifeguards to refer to children who show up to the recreational swim every day (often without their parents, often very rowdy, and often not shy about approaching the lifeguards). Happens a lot at outdoor pools in the summer.
> 
> I asked a couple different people whose Wash's favourite Avenger would be and got different answers from each. My reasoning for Wash's answer is that pre-Project Freelancer and early in the Project he would admire someone who does the right thing regardless as he, and some of the other freelancers, seem to genuinely view themselves as doing/wanting to do the right thing at the start (see York's "We're the good guys, right?"). Post-Project Freelancer, this would most likely change given all the shit that goes down, but we're not at that point in this fic. 
> 
> I'm absolutely overwhelmed at all the support this is getting, thank you so much everyone!!


	10. Chapter 10

“Uh, Tucker?”

Halfway through the water polo practice on Monday, Simmons’ uncertain voice interrupted Tucker and Caboose’s passing drill. Church treaded water a little ways away as Wash tried without luck to improve his aim.

“Yeah?” Tucker asked, turning a little to face the other water polo player. Grif and Sarge had paused in their activities to stare at the bulkhead instead. Simmons just pointed in the same direction they were looking, and Tucker twisted his gaze around.

“Sup, cockbite,” Tex greeted him, and Tucker resisted the urge to just sink underwater then at the sight of her grin.

Instead of answering her, he turned around to where Wash and Church had gone still. Wash caught Tucker’s gaze and he raised a finger at the lifeguard.

“You.”

 “I had no idea she was coming today,” Wash protested, raising his hands in front of him. Church began to swim closer to where Tex stood.

“Aw, what’s wrong, Tucker, you not happy to see me?”

“Not at a practice, no. I know you’re only here to beat the shit out of us.”

“Maybe I’m here to watch Church.”

“I know for a fact hot pool sex is not on your guys’ bucket list.”

“We don’t have a fucking bucket list,” Church cut in. Tucker glared at him, unwilling to believe his roommate hadn’t known Tex would show up that day when it was one of the few practices Church would attend that week. Which meant he’d withheld such valuable information from Tucker.

“Not in writing, sure,” Tucker replied. “But you’ve both vocalized shit you want to do with each other in detail.”

Wash made a sound somewhere between a cough and choking on his own spit. Tucker glanced at him, grinning at the red beginning to colour his face and the way his eyes scrunched up against Tucker’s statement.

“Not a fan of PDA, Wash?”

“I just don’t think I need to hear the details about my manager’s sex life,” Wash said dryly. Tucker cast a pleading gaze at Tex.

“Please tell me you talk about it with the lifeguards.”

“Only when Church fucks up,” Tex replied, tilting her head at Tucker while Church opened his mouth. She continued before his angry indignation could spill out. “So almost every day.”

Caboose swam over at the sound of Church’s swearing, and Tucker felt a grin coax at his lips.

“You know, Tex, if you weren’t such a bitch, I might actually like you,” Tucker told her.

“And if you weren’t such an asshole, I’d still hate you.”

“I hate both of you,” Church informed them. “Present tense, no conditional shit about it.”

“I like you, Church!”

“Shut the fuck up, Caboose.”

“So Tex,” Wash interrupted before they could lose themselves in anymore swearing. He walked over to stand beside her on the bulkhead, voice faltering a little but shoulders staying straight. “Why did you come to practice?”

She shrugged.

“Wanted to see how they were doing. And I believe we had an agreement about getting to play against them.”

“Oh, right. Okay, guys–”

“Not just them.” Tex pointed to where Simmons still hovered close by and to where Sarge had gone back to cursing at Grif. “ _All_ of them.”

“Um,” Simmons squeaked, but Tex just strode toward Sarge.

Wash trailed behind her, and the others all watched them go with as much as horrified fascination as they would give a volcanic eruption. To Sarge’s credit, he actually stopped his yelling and gave Tex his full attention while she and Wash explained what they wanted. Well, Wash explained and Tex seemed to interject with the occasional threat, arms crossed over her chest as she stared at Sarge the entire time. Tucker didn’t need to be nearby to hear the man’s gruff protest and the way he would say _“damn dirty Blues_ ” at their suggestion.

And yet, five minutes later, Tucker found himself huddled on the side of the pool alongside the Reds while Sarge and Wash went over the players’ positions. He desperately wanted to ask Grif what the fuck Tex had said, but he kept whispering to Simmons while Donut rambled to the Blues about his latest baking escapades.

“We’re fucked,” Church concluded once Wash finished speaking. Tucker could always ask Wash what Tex said, but he didn’t seem prepared to double-cross Tex and face her wrath quite yet.

“You’ll be fine,” Wash said.

“Yeah, no, I agree with Church,” Grif said. “We’re screwed.”

“She’s just going to smash the ball into our faces,” Simmons added. “One by one, she’ll get us.”

“Just get in the pool, men!” Sarge told them. “Stop being such cowards–I expect that behaviour from them Blues, but we Reds never back down from an enemy!”

Grif sighed and even Simmons looked ready to disobey Sarge’s order, but they slowly dragged themselves into the pool. Donut hopped in with a translation of Lopez’s feelings, who glared at the man and said something even faster in Spanish. Tucker slipped in with Church and Caboose a few seconds later, reluctant to release his grip on the side and fully give himself over to his fate.

“Just remember the drills we’ve been doing in practice,” Wash told them while Tex watched from where she treaded water at the other end.

“There is no fucking drill to prepare you for Tex,” Tucker told him, but he joined the laughing Church regardless.

Tex moved through the water like she had been born with fins instead of legs, gliding through their out stretched arms and smashing them aside with her body when they tried to stay their ground. She plucked any shots they had from the air effortlessly, as if their throws were moving in slow motion for her. She never missed her target, whether that be the goal or another player. Neither going at her head on nor trying to be trickier with their strategies worked, and her only response to Tucker’s taunts and teasing was to be more vicious than necessary when stealing the ball from him.

Tucker admitted that they did better against her than they would have before Wash started training them. By that, he meant they managed to get more shots off than the Reds and weren’t drowning more by the halfway point. But the Reds had only gotten two shots off, so beating them by two shots hardly seemed an accomplishment, and Tucker only just kept his chin above water when Tex focused on drowning someone else.

“I don’t understand,” Simmons wheezed at one point. Caboose held the ball and Tex treaded water a few feet away. She grinned at all of them where they clutched at the side of the pool, Wash crouching on the pool deck with a frown on his pale face. “How the fuck is she able to keep the ball away from all of us?”

“Her interceptions are literally defying physics,” Tucker said, resting his cheek on the arm he hooked onto the side of the pool. “There’s no fucking way she should be able to guard all of us.”

“Are you fucking surprised?” Church demanded. He fared no better than the rest of them, hand clutching the side of his head where Tex had repeatedly hit it with a water polo ball when he tried to grab her and get a goal.

“Why does she hate my balls?” Grif moaned. He curled in the fetal position on deck, hands covering the groin Tex had kicked several times. She claimed it an accidental consequence of Grif attempting to stop her or go past her.

“Your girlfriend is a very mean lady,” Caboose told Church, and Tucker wondered if Caboose would switch positions with him. Being goalie seemed to have protected him from the worst of Tex’s physicality given the woman’s ability to take perfect, scoring shots far from Caboose’s personal bubble.

“I’m pretty sure York has started making popcorn,” Wash muttered, casting a look toward the guard room.

“Tell him he’s an asshole,” Tucker snapped. Then he glanced at the windows in consideration before turning to Church. “Hey, any chance we could get Carolina out here to play for us?”

“No!” Church and Wash both screeched at the same time. Everyone turned to stare at them.

“You do not want to see that,” Church said, shaking his head with a grimace. “Ever. Under any fucking circumstances. All of us would get fucking annihilated in the crossfire.”

“Just–um–they’re very competitive with each other,” Wash clarified.

“Alright alright, no sexy catfight, got it.”

“Trust me, Tucker, it’s not sexy. It’s the stuff of nightmares.”

“Son, have you ever considered the fact that your girlfriend may not actually be human?” Sarge asked before Tucker could respond to Church’s latest comment. Church’s shoulders slumped a little.

“Yeah. Yeah, I definitely have.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“You assholes done whining yet or what?” Tex called. “Because we haven’t even started round two.”

“I hate you and everything you stand for!” Tucker shouted back. Which was when he noticed Kaikaina lounging on the benches on deck, leaning back on her elbows as she watched the pool. “What the fuck, Kai, how long have you been there?”

“Long enough to watch you all get your asses beat.”

“And you didn’t think to help us?” Grif yelled at her. She offered him a grin and the middle finger.

“Are you kidding me? Tex is hot as hell like this, why would I get in the way of that?”

“You are the worst sister ever!”

Tex, Wash, and Sarge cut off their chatter a few seconds later to begin the second round. Somehow, it went even worse than the first one.

***

“Let’s do that again sometime,” Tex called to everyone, and Wash wondered if they had thank you cards at the store for this kind of occasion.

Probably not, and he couldn’t bake anything to save his life. Connie was hopeless, too, but Chris could always be counted on to make sure neither one of them were starved of desserts for very long. Maybe Wash could rope him into making cookies for Tex to thank her for this. Hell, she deserved an entire bakery judging by the terror twisting Tucker’s face and the way his gaze went to Wash with a barely concealed plea. Tucker might hate training, but the fear of Tex and desire to avoid further beatings by her seemed like it would only add further motivation to the small amount their truce had caused.

In the meantime, there were legitimate leagues to worry about and the issue of their team size. Wash sighed, looking to where the Red team sprawled on the deck by the guard room and braced himself for the roar of protestations he knew he would find there. He walked away from where Caboose floated in the water and Tucker had collapsed half in, half out of the pool.

Church had climbed out closer to the Reds and rested on a bench with his arm draped across his sweaty face. Tex stopped above him, and Wash stopped beside her, torn between thanking her now and speaking with the Reds.

“I hate you so much,” he heard Church mutter to Tex, who simply grinned. She leaned down near the pile of bags and pulled out her phone from one of them. With a smug glance at Wash, she pointed the phone at Church and the tiny sound of a camera going off filled the air.

“Oh come on,” Church groaned. He removed his arm so he could glare at Tex just as she took another picture.

“What do you think, Wash, worthy of Snapchat story?” she asked, tilting the screen so he could get a glance.

“Fuck–”

“You’re right,” Tex said despite Wash’s lack of response as he fumbled for the appropriate words. “I should just make all of them my story.”

“Bitch,” Church swore.

“Is that any way to talk to someone who was going to make you a Funky Monkey smoothie when we got back to your place?”

Church stilled at that, and Wash made a mental note that food seemed to motivate not just Grif, but most members of the Reds and Blues. Which reminded him that he should be talking to Sarge, not observing the personal life the staff sometimes believed Tex didn’t have.

“With extra peanut butter?” Wash heard Church ask as he walked away. He nearly slipped in a puddle at the complete lack of mockery and sarcasm in Church’s voice.

“Why not.”

“And none for Tucker?” Wash smiled a little when he heard the familiar smugness once again returning to Church’s voice.

“Wash can deal with the rest of the team.”

He left the hearing range a second later, Sarge glancing up at him when he came to a stand-still beside him. The others had already begun to exit the pool deck, voices raised in yet another argument.

“So that probably didn’t go as well as you’d like,” Wash said, and Sarge snorted.

“We got our keisters kicked right out of the damn pool, son. Couldn’t get much worse than that. Well, unless I was a Blue.”

“Uh, right. Well actually, I was going to ask if you’d consider doing joint practices.”

Sarge laughed and Wash took it as a good sign the man hadn’t just walked away or pushed him into the pool.

“Why in the samhell’s name would I ever do that?”

“Because you got your asses kicked,” Wash said. “And you might not want to admit it, but Tucker did better against Tex than most of you. I’m not asking you to give up control but I think if we worked together, we could get Simmons and Grif and all the others to do the actual drills and improve.”

“And why would a Blue want to help a Red?”

“You _are_ aware that none of you are actually in a league or on an official team, right? That you divided yourselves and then came up with the different team names all by yourself?”

“You’ve got about five seconds before I–”

“Right, okay, just–” Wash rubbed at the back of his head and wondered how Tucker could have been easier to convince than this. “I think it could help. And I’m not technically a Blue. I’m a lifeguard.”

Sarge snorted.

“Son, you are a Blue if I ever saw one. And if you weren’t before, you are now hanging around with those bastards and encouraging their team. Besides, you’re still asking me to join them as if the very _idea_ doesn’t fill my soul with a poison there ain’t no cure for!”

“Still technically a lifeguard,” Wash said as he tried to parcel out the other important parts of Sarge’s speech and how to respond. “And you don’t have to interact that much if you don’t want. Just, using the same drills and then scrimmaging like normal.”

Sarge pursed his lips and Wash could feel the curious stares of his coworkers from inside the guardroom, but Wash refused to look away from Sarge.

“I’ll consider it,” Sarge finally said. He grabbed his bag and headed off toward the change room while Wash breathed a sigh.

He hadn’t even mentioned his idea of merging them into one team for a legitimate league.

 _One step at a time,_ Wash told himself as he entered the guardroom and forced his thoughts onto the rest of his work shift.

***

Simmons accepted full responsibility for the first time, but only the first time.

“This is such bullshit.”

They sat on the couch in Grif’s living room, Simmons with his feet curled beneath him in one corner and Grif letting his legs sprawl across the couch. The edges of his toes brushed Simmons calves, and a bowl full of popcorn balanced in his lap.

“It’s not _that_ bad, Grif.”

“Are you kidding me? Junior could take better camera shots than this.”

Grif gestured toward the screen of their TV. A scenery shot filled the screen, and Grif glared at the mediocrity of it. Game consoles were neatly lined up beneath the table the TV sat on, and Donut had organized all of their games in the lower shelf of the table. Simmons knew the other student had to have done it that morning, for no organization lasted longer than a day before Grif or Kaikaina made a mess of it. The kitchen filled with open take-out containers was a testament to that.

Random posters of different bands Kaikaina liked were thrown up on the wall to fill the empty spots where another person’s portrait should be.Donut found space in between for the paintings he found aesthetically pleasing, shoving small potted plants in whatever corner he could find. They teased him for the pastel colour scheme he chose for the painting of the walls, but Simmons always thought it made the living room much homier than his own, even with the lack of any major furniture beyond the couch. Beyond that, only a coffee table had been shoved against one wall with a cushion at its front for Donut to sit on while he did his homework there.

“Oh god, they’re going to start speaking again,” Grif said, drawing Simmons’ attention back to the movie. “I’d rather stab my eardrums with tacks.”

Simmons just snorted and got up to refill his cup of water. His calculus textbook lay on the floor by the couch, still open to the page of homework he’d given up on an hour ago when Grif first started the movie.

“Seriously,” Grif continued to complain as Simmons entered the kitchen. “Even _you_ could write better than dialogue than this shit.”

“Fuck you, I write better than you,” Simmons replied as he turned on the tap in the dark. They both knew it was a lie, for Grif’s scripts were always filled with his sarcastic humour that managed to drag laughter from most who read it. Professors and Simmons were included in that category.

“Sure, Simmons. Hey, get me a coke while you’re up.”

“That’s your third one in an hour!”

He headed to the fridge nonetheless, the dull buzzing noise of the electricity fueling it filling the air when he opened its door. Simmons leaned inside to grab one of the many pops that rested inside the cool space. With three university students in one home, the place never seemed devoid of fizzy drinks or alcohol. They intermingled with all the healthier items Donut and Kaikaina attempted to use to inject some nutrition into their lives.

“I need more than that to get through this trash,” Grif shot back.

Simmons rolled his eyes as he grabbed the drink and shut the fridge. Without the fridge light, only the glow of the TV screen filled the darkness of the two small rooms. The watch on Simmons’ wrist proclaimed the new day to have started half an hour ago, and Kaikaina had disappeared into her own room the second Grif started the movie. If Simmons were to pass by the door of her room, he knew he’d hear the clacking noise of her keyboard as she messaged all of her friends on various messaging apps.

“Why don’t you just not watch this one?” Simmons suggested when he returned to his seat. He tossed Grif the drink, who cursed as he fumbled with the cold can and kept the popcorn from spilling. 

“Even I’ve gotta watch some of the course’s films,” Grif replied. Neither of them commented on the fact that Grif did the majority of his coursework despite the laziness that permeated his being.

Grif fell quiet for a few minutes after that, but began complaining about the nonsensical nature of the plot a few scenes later. He jabbed his feet into Simmons’ side, and Simmons shoved them off with a scowl. Grif grinned and repeated the action, leading to five minutes of back and forth war before the popcorn nearly spilled. Only at that point did Grif settle and return his attention to the movie.

Twenty minutes later the front door swung open and light seared their eyes. Simmons blinked in the sudden brightness as Grif cursed his returning roommate. Donut just offered an apologetic smile before dumping his bag on Grif’s legs.

“Where were you all night?” Simmons asked. Both Grif and Kaikaina had simply offered a shrug when Simmons asked about the location of their other roommate. The reaction was a common one for all three of them, though.

“Just blowing my group members away,” Donut replied, and Simmons winced a little. “Sorry, guys, but I really need to get some sleep.”

“We’ve only got–”

“There’s an hour left on the film,” Simmons pointed out.

“Fuck. Okay, we’ll go.”

They got up, Grif grabbing his food while Simmons paused the movie and ejected it from the DVD player. The sound of springs squeaking cut through the silence as Donut opened up the fold-out bed he slept on. He retreated to grab a comforter and pillow from the closet, and Simmons followed Grif to his room.

“Night, guys,” Donut called cheerfully, settling down on his bed. Grif offered him half a wave before they disappeared into his room.

The door fell shut behind them, and Grif headed straight for the bed, oblivious to the mess of textbooks and clothes scattered across the floor. A small desk sat beneath the window where Grif worked, a stand of movies placed beside Grif’s dresser. Half of the movies were in a pile at the foot of the stand, and clothes spilled from the open drawers like intestines from an open wound. Simmons picked his way across the floor, careful not to trip over the air mattress they’d blown up before the movie for Simmons to sleep on.

Grif had his laptop set up already, shoving the movie in and propping up his pillows for the both of them. While the double bed was bigger than Simmons’ single bed, Grif’s wide girth took up more space than Simmons’. Not to the point where they couldn’t both share the bed to sleep if they wanted to, but Grif also tended to sprawl in his sleep. Legs and arms tangled with the other person’s, an arm draped across their chest, and his face pressed against their neck. He never seemed embarrassed by it the next morning, but Simmons insisted he didn’t enjoy being used as a stuffed animal, especially on a school night.

The next time he had visited Grif’s apartment after making such insistences, an air mattress waited for him in the closet, though all three residents claimed their roommate had gotten it.

“Just one more hour of torture,” Grif muttered to himself, and pressed play.

He settled back against the pillows, and Simmons shifted his position until his legs stretched in front of him. It only took a few seconds for them to find comfortable spots after ending so many nights in a similar manner. Moonlight drifted through the small window when the moon decided to dart out from behind the clouds, and the low volume of the movie spread throughout the small room. The late hour pressed on Simmons’ eyelids, but Grif’s snorts and whispered skepticism kept them from fully closing.

For once, Simmons mind drifted into quiet in minutes rather than hours. His thoughts barely snagged on any burs of anxiety buried within its grey matter, and his muscles sagged into the mattress and pillow. No light snuck underneath the doorway as all the other residents remained quiet and content in their own space, readyif assistance was needed but not constantly on the verge of bursting into another’s bubble with bloodied daggers drawn. In Grif’s apartment, he only needed to worry about the nagging and swearing of friends’, not the cold criticisms’ of his own blood. After two years, Simmons instinctively relaxed the second he moved beyond the threshold of Grif’s room and his initial disgust for the mess.

The helpless laughter shaking Grif’s body a few moments later had Simmons elbowing his friend in revenge for being startled out of his drowsiness. Grif turned to him, the light of the movie painting his face in strange colours and his smile gleaming at Simmons. Simmons found himself staring, affection unfurling throughout him like a large sail in the sunlight of Grif’s amusement.

Sentiment suffocated all coherent thought in Simmons’ mind and carried him forward into Grif’s personal bubble. He pressed his lips to Grif’s dry ones, eyes closed to the expression on Grif’s still face.

For one moment, Simmons felt the warmth of another’s lips and inhaled the startled breath of another, letting their oxygen bubble through his veins and feed his blood cells.

Simmons’ brain caught up with his body seconds later, though, and he shoved Grif away. His eyes flew open as he fell back off the bed in his haste to get away from yet another mistake. Pain shot up his tailbone and he bit down on the yelp surging through his throat.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

The litany screeched on repeat in his mind and he dragged his feet away from the bed in the sudden silence. His hands scrabbled on the hardwood floor, pushing himself into a crouched position from which he could rush out of the room. Mindless panic forced him to rock on the balls of his feet in preparation to run, but Grif’s voice kept him from completely fleeing the room.

“Whoa whoa, Simmons, calm down.”

“Sorry that wasn’t–”

His voice croaked out of him, and a sliver of logic trickled through the destructive panic. Leaving then would only make the damage control even harder to do, Simmons told his frantic mind. His body still screamed at him to put as much distance between himself and his latest fuck up as possible, but somehow he managed to remain in the dim room.

 Simmons ran a hand through his hair, refusing to look at Grif where he remained on the bed. “I don’t know what–that won’t happen again.”

“Uh.” Only when Grif remained quiet after that did Simmons finally look up, though his heart pounded so hard in response to the action, he half-expected to find a bruise on his pale chest in the morning. With the light of the movie, Simmons could see Grif’s widened eyes, but the rest of his expression remained impossible to determine. “Simmons, do you li–”

“Jesus Christ, don’t even finish that sentence!” Simmons interrupted. He fought to keep his voice from entering a higher-pitched sound range, pushing it down after the first few syllables. “Why the fuck would I ever like you?”

Grif didn’t seem bothered by the harshness coating Simmons words in poison, just shrugged in response.

“Well I’m sorry, I don’t generally kiss my friends,” Grif replied, and Simmons felt himself go still.

“Fuck you,” Simmons spat out, and began to straighten out of his crouch.

“Wait, Simmons.” Simmons paused with bent knees, and Grif sighed. “I believe you, alright? Clearly you’re gagging for it because you haven’t gotten any–well, ever.”

“Fuck you, Grif,” Simmons said, but the curse no longer held the desire to maim anyone who came near him. Grif offered him a small smile and for half a second, Simmons felt hope as fragile as glass spires twisting above the dread.

“It’s just a kiss, Simmons,” Grif said. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, and you definitely don’t need to have a panic attack over it.”

“I know that,” Simmons insisted, even though his chest still felt too tight in the sudden heat of the room. “So will you just forget all that ever happened and let me sleep?”

“If that’s what you want.”

The words came out slower than Simmons liked, but the indifference on Grif’s face reassured him. With a nod, Simmons climbed onto the air mattress and tried to ignore the way the pace of his beating heart insisted he was still kissing Grif. He turned onto his side so his back faced Grif, and he stared at the blank wall. A few seconds passed where the only sound was their breathing as Simmons desperately attempted to ignore the reality of what he’d just done.

Easier to focus on was Grif’s acceptance of the action and the possibility that Simmons’ hadn’t just ruined the most comfortable relationship in his life.

“Hey, Simmons?” Grif’s quiet voice sliced through the darkness. “Why haven’t you ever dated anyone? I know you’ve found plenty of those geeks in your classes cute.”

“You know how my dad feels about gay people.”

“So don’t tell him you’re dating anyone.”

“He’d find out.” Simmons knew it just like he knew gravity would always be there to drag him back to the ground, no matter how high he jumped. So long as he lived in the same proximity as his father and used his money, his claws would find every surface of Simmons’ life to tear into.

“How the hell would he–”

“He just would.”

Grif fell quiet, and Simmons refused to feel like a small child whining that the world wasn’t fair. His parents had made it very clear at an early age that the world didn’t owe him shit.

“So what, you’re just not gonna date until…?”

“Not until I finish grad school.” Simmons took a deep breath and allowed himself to roll onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling where Kaikaina had plastered glow in the dark stars, able to see Grif out of the corner of his eye. His friend propped himself up on one elbow as he studied Simmons.

“That’s another three years. Or more.”

“You know he’s paying for my education,” Simmons replied. “And you know he’ll cut me off if he finds out. Which means he can’t find out until I have a degree and a job, which means no dating until then.”

“That’s a long ass time,” Grif said, and Simmons let out a helpless breath of laughter. The noise tangled around his tongue and snagged on his teeth before it came out, making it ugly in its notes of hysteria.

“No fucking shit, Grif.” He took a deep breath and imagined all the bitterness retreating inside him and remaining trapped in a small bottle buried in his chest.“It’s fine. I don’t really care about that kinda shit anyways.”

“Nerd,” Grif said softly a few seconds later, and the sudden sound of the movie being turned on again made it unnecessary for Simmons to respond. Instead, he glanced at his watch and then Grif’s face while he watched the movie with renewed attentiveness. 

Whenever someone asked Grif why he chose to major in film, he’d give them a lazy smile and tell them because he got grades for sitting on his ass and watching films all day. He got the added bonus of stuffing his face while doing it, too.

But intelligence burst through his film commentary, and the smallest details didn’t go unnoticed in his papers. And Simmons had seen the short scripts and films Grif produced for his classes, both in group projects and on his own. He’d gone with Grif as he trekked across town searching for the perfect places to shoot the scenes. He’d laughed at the scripts and watched Grif edit them at four AM, scowl on his face and teeth chewing the edge of the pen.

And the first time Simmons watched Grif’s five minute film on the hidden locations within their city that whispered of fairies and ghosts and long forgotten secrets, was the first time he realized he was in love with Grif.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Simmons' wonderful world of repression, please enjoy your stay.
> 
> I don't know why the headcanon of Tex being the queen of smoothies and Church loving all the weirdly named ones came into my head while writing this, but now that I have it, you'll have to kill me before I let go of it. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed it and my attempt at adapting that infamous season 8 episode! (I couldn't resist).


	11. Chapter 11

Sarge remained locked in consideration over Wash’s offer the following practice, and Wash did his best to be patient while running the Blues’ practice. All three of the male Blues showed up once more, but Tucker told Wash not to get used to it once they reached the mid-point of the semester. Wash didn’t tell him Wash hoped by that point they would be more than just the Blues, just as he chose not to comment on the stares he felt Sarge giving them throughout the morning.

The older man was quick to turn away and yell something at Grif when he thought Wash looked over, but Wash spotted him studying their drills with a frown on his face several times. Wash didn’t know if that meant Sarge was being convinced, or if he just wanted to be better prepared against them for the scrimmage. Given how often he seemed to mutter to himself about “damn dirty Blues,” Wash probably shouldn’t be holding onto much hope.

Sarge could be given time, though. At the end of the practice, Kaikaina was the one Wash headed over to when they all began to climb out of the pool. He saw Tucker spare him a glance out of the corner of his eye, but the water polo player turned his attention to his other teammates when they yelled him over.

Kaikaina grabbed her towel from the bench, not yet moving to join the Blues as they disappeared into the hall, or the Reds as they pulled themselves onto the deck. The moment Wash got near her, a scowl stole over her face and she placed her hands on her hips.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you unless I’ve got a lawyer with me,” she told him when he opened his mouth to speak.

“For the last time, I’m not a cop! I’m a lifeguard and a university student.”

“That’s just what an undercover cop would _want_ me to think so they can catch me in the middle of the crime.”

Wash resisted the urge to cradle his head in his hands or just walk away from the ridiculousness compressed into the human form in front of him. He wanted to tell the girl she might be worse than Tucker, but she didn’t seem like she needed much to add to her hostility.

“I’m not a cop,” he insisted. “I’m not an undercover cop or a spy or a detective or anything like that.”

“Like I’d believe you,” she scoffed, and flung her towel over her shoulder. She began to stalk away without another glance, and Wash checked quickly to make sure the other Reds were still far enough away before he called after her.

“It’s about your brother.”

That made Kaikaina turn around, body going stiff and chin jutting out even more than before.

“What the hell do you want with him?” she demanded, and Wash raised his hands in a helpless gesture of peace.

“I don’t want to hurt him or arrest him or whatever it is you’re thinking. I just want to help him be a better player.”

She blinked, gaze darting over to the other men before taking a step closer to Wash.

“I thought you were the Blues’ coach?”

“Don’t _any_ of you realize there are no Blues or Reds?” Wash said, but he swallowed down his frustration at Kaikaina’s scowl. Insisting the lines they’d drawn between each other were as fictitious as mermaids would get him nowhere. “Look it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Grif only tries when he’s facing against you. Any scrimmage you’re not here or during the practices, he doesn’t try at all.”

“So?”

“ _So_ he could be so much better if he just practiced a bit. He’s already a good player when he’s not being lazy.”

“What do you get from all this?” Kaikaina asked. Some of the hostility seemed to have seeped from her voice, though suspicion now pulled her mouth into a frown.

“Not getting a headache from listening to Sarge yell at him every morning.”

She pursed her lips, refusing to look away from Wash who returned the gaze with as much calm as he could.

“I don’t believe you,” she declared. Wash scrambled to think of a reply but her shrug cut off his efforts. “But I guess nothing bad can come from him actually getting some exercise. Volleyball says she can even suck her own foot cuz she’s so in shape and you know that’s gonna win her a lot of points with anyone with a foot fetish.”

“What.” Wash stared at her, mouth parting slightly and coherent sentences vanishing from his mind

“What do I have to do with any of this, though?”

“I told you. Grif is only motivated enough when you’re around to be competition. Which means if we want him to improve, we need you to come to every practice. _All_ of practice, not just the last five minutes of the scrimmage.”

“You’re asking me to give up that much sleep?”

“It’s for your brother’s health?” Wash suggested, and Kaikaina narrowed her eyes at him.

“I think you’re over-estimating how much I care about him.”

“I think I’m actually under-estimating how much you care.”

The sound of the other Reds’ voices filled the air behind them, and Wash didn’t need to turn around to know they would be coming close. He didn’t want to have to explain to them what he and Kaikaina were discussing, but judging from the way her expression melted into a flippant one, neither did she.

“Grif’s always telling me he can take care of himself,” she said, and then turned on her heel to stalk away.

Wash let his eyes fall shut for a moment, counting to ten in his head before exhaling slowly and opening his eyes again. He had resolved to spend no more than practice time cursing the stubborn stupidity of the Blues and Reds, and so far he’d broken that resolve every day.

Wash headed into the guard room, where Carolina, York, and North all lounged since the middle tank remained absent of any patrons. Carolina sat at the computer, munching on carrots as York sat on the desk beside her, gesturing while he told her a story. She smiled slightly around each bite, York grinning in response. North had his feet propped up on the desk while he leaned back in a plastic green chair and played on his 3DS.

“South wanted to let you know we’re doing a potluck breakfast the next Saturday of this session,” North told Wash without looking up from the game. “So not this upcoming one, but the sixth week of lessons.”

“She doesn’t work Saturday mornings.”

“Since when has that kept anyone away from a staff event involving food?” Carolina asked as Wash hurried to his bag to grab his towel in the cool air of the guard room.

“Also, she calls making pancakes because she claims she makes the best ones.”

“No arguments there,” York said. Wash wrapped his towel around his shoulders and took a seat between North and York on a chair. “Sorry, North. But you can’t make breakfast to save your life.”

“Oh trust me, I am aware. South makes sure to remind me of the fact every morning.”

“Why was Texas in during the morning yesterday, Wash?” Carolina’s voice hinted at nothing but curiosity, and Wash couldn’t find the hostility he expected in her bright green eyes when he met her gaze.

“Uh, she wanted to play against Church and everyone,” Wash replied.

The others had gone still at the question, stares locked onto Carolina’s relaxed form. The two women no longer seemed as ready to rip out each other’s throats after York’s injury, but it didn’t mean they were friends. The distance they kept between each other remained cold, tempered by workplace propriety.

Carolina stayed quiet for a moment and Wash remembered she’d only caught the last five minutes of the match, out of the room and off the deck the rest of the time dealing with some sort of issue. He knew by now that the Church who came to water polo and everyone knew to be Tex’s boyfriend was the cousin Carolina occasionally mentioned. Wash had never heard the two discussing him with each other, though, and he wondered if such a conversation had ever occurred where he simply didn’t hear it.

“It was pretty funny to watch,” York volunteered in the ensuing silence. “Not really a fair match, but it seemed like it made them listen better today. Don’t you think so, Wash?”

“Yeah.” He glared at York. “Were you watching the whole time again?”

“Of course.”

“Surely you wouldn’t deny us _some_ form of entertainment this early in the morning,” North added.

“But it seemed like they were giving you less trouble,” York said. “Didn’t do anything for their swearing though. They’re all worse than South when she’s drunk.”

“She looked like she was having fun,” Carolina interrupted, but her voice rose up in a question at the end. They all swivelled around to stare at her, and she frowned as she stared out the window at the pool. “But they weren’t a challenge to her at all.”

Wash didn’t need to see his other coworkers’ expressions to know they would be struggling to keep their mouths closed and their eyes from growing too wide at Carolina’s declaration. Wash wanted to look at York to judge what their next action should be, but he couldn’t look away from Carolina’s expression despite its imperviousness to their desperate attempts to read it.

“Well, I mean,” Wash began hesitantly, “she knows them and it was still a competition, so she’d have fun even if it was easy?”

Carolina didn’t reply or look at Wash, just kept staring out the window with a slight frown.

“Can you imagine if they actually were a challenge?” York said into the silence, gaze darting between Wash and Carolina. “She’d be laughing then.”

“I guess she’ll just have to wait until Wash trains them more,” North replied with a small grin in Wash’s direction.

Carolina still didn’t say anything, her fingers tapping lightly at the computer keys without pressing any down.

Connie’s entrance into the guard room saved anyone from having to come up with another comment and risk Carolina’s wrath. Wash moved to greet her, watching York lean over and whisper something to Carolina as he did so. A text conversation about all of this would be in order after their shift, but for the moment, Wash was content to simply wave good bye as York left for the day and a new conversation stole his attention.

 ***

Tucker followed Church and Caboose out in the hallway that ran behind the guard room and equipment room, its tiled floor hardly ever used by the public. The change rooms didn’t connect to it directly, and it could only be accessed through the far side of the lobby, pool deck, or guard room. There wasn’t much for the public in the first place, beyond a unisex washroom and the boiler room they weren’t allowed in.

“Seriously, Caboose,” Church said to their teammate, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why the fuck were you even out here?”

“I thought it would be an excellent hiding place for hide-and-seek,” Caboose explained. “But then nobody came to find me and I got very bored and was very wet, so I came back inside.”

“That’s because nobody fucking said we were playing hide-and-go-seek yesterday!”

“Dude, who cares,” Tucker interrupted, before Caboose could try and protest. “Let’s just look for his stupid goggles and go. I’m freezing and I want to eat before aquafit.”

Church sighed, dragging a hand down his face as Caboose studied the pale wall tiles and then the bare floor. Water dripped from all three of the water polo players, slowly coalescing into a puddle beneath them that would later creep toward the drain in the middle of the hallway.

“Caboose, where were you hiding?”

“Oh oh, over here.” He began walking toward the far corner near the entrance of the boiler room rather than the door of the washroom like Tucker had been expecting. Tucker and Church followed his eager steps until he stopped and stared at the empty corner with frown.

“Wow, they’re not fucking here,” Church snapped, “Tucker, are you surprised by this? Cuz I gotta say, I’m fucking not.”

Caboose crouched down, staring hard at the intersection of the two walls and prodding the small pile of dust in it as if the particles were hiding his goggles from him. Tucker just shook his head and glanced toward the boiler room door. A window sat above and below the metal support running horizontally through the middle of the door, much like the door to the guard office and deck.

Movement caught his eye, and Tucker frowned. He took a step closer to the door, gaze going briefly to the sign above it that stated nobody who wasn’t a city employee should be inside. Grey fabric flashed in the corner of his eye, and he thought he caught sight of someone disappearing behind the high shelves hosting containers of chlorine. Two massive tanks sat in the middle of the room, dials unreadable from where Tucker stood.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” Church asked, and he moved to stand beside Tucker.

“I thought I saw someone.”

“So?”

“They weren’t wearing a guard uniform,” Tucker replied, for the red shirts every lifeguard wore were hard to miss.

“What are you three doing out here?”

The two of them whirled around at the sudden voice from behind them, while Caboose simply blinked up at the source. A female lifeguard stood there, arms crossed over her chest and brown hair pulled back into a tight pony tail. Recognition ate away the surprise squeezing around Tucker’s heart.

“You’re that chick from last week,” Tucker blurted, “the one who came into Mother of Invention with Wash and Mohawk dude.”

That had everyone staring at Tucker, though it made the girl’s shoulders relax slightly.

“You’re Tucker,” the girl said in response, and Tucker wondered if every member of the staff knew all the water polo players by this point. “I’m CT. And the Mohawk dude happens to be my boyfriend, Chris.”

“Fascinating,” Church said, and CT merely gave him a thin smile at the sarcasm.

“Once again, what are you guys doing out here?”

“We are looking for my goggles,” Caboose told her at the same time that Tucker replied,

“Just thought I saw someone in the boiler room.”

“You can check at the front desk in the lobby to see if anyone found your goggles,” CT told Caboose before turning to Tucker with a frown. “You thought it was strange that a lifeguard would be in the boiler room?”

“They weren’t wearing a lifeguard shirt.”

“So it was probably just a BA,” Church cut in. He rolled his eyes at both of them. “What the fuck does it matter? Come on, let’s go get your goggles, Caboose.”

“Thank you, nice lady!” Caboose said to CT.

Caboose followed the impatient Church toward the door they’d come through, Church shouting at Tucker to hurry up when he hesitated. Tucker glanced at CT, but she remained standing by the door of the boiler room. The tense shoulders were back, and a frown etched into her pale face. She looked back to Tucker, but merely gave him a pointed look when he didn’t move.

Connie watched Tucker follow his friends onto the deck where they would head to the change rooms before the lobby. She waited until they were out of sight before turning her attention back to the boiler room door. She couldn’t see anyone else in the room at the moment, the lights turned on with the rest of the building’s when Carolina arrived in the morning.

But no building attendants were scheduled to start work until 9am and it was only just past 8:30.

Connie’s hand reached for the door handle and tightened around the cold metal.

“CT?”

She let go of the door handle the second the first syllable pierced her ears, and she turned around.

All of the building attendants had adopted nicknames for themselves after 479er’s example. There weren’t very many of them, and some of them never entered the guard room unless necessary, unlike 479er who occasionally came in to chat with them or eat her meal. Given the bonds that already existed between the lifeguards, none of them minded not having another person around in the first place.

The dark skinned man standing before Connie was the building attendant known only as the Counsellor. Connie didn’t know if the Director had given the man the name given his older age and status, or if the man chose it himself to exude confidence whenever he was around the younger lifeguards. With anyone else, Connie might have laughed at the arrogance inherent in such a name.

With the Counsellor, any desire to laugh died the second she saw his blank expression. Instead, she felt the burning desire to remain as unobtrusive and unnoticeable as possible around him.

“479er wanted to know how much chlorine we had left,” Connie lied, words tumbling from her mouth before she gave them a second thought. “I figured I’d go check for her before our shifts.”

“How kind of you,” he said. His voice never held more emotion than a thimble’s worth, and Connie could never figure out what was hidden beneath his veneer of calm. “I didn’t realize you worked this early.”

“I’m covering for York, starting at nine,” she said, thankful for having one grain of truth to fall back on. “I didn’t think you worked this early.”

“The Director wanted me to do an extra inventory check before the swim meet tomorrow,” he said, offering her a smile that held no warmth. Connie wanted to see it as a lie, but the grey BA shirt he wore supported his claim. “I’ll be sure to check the chlorine quantity as well.”

“Thanks,” Connie said, and because she knew there would be no gaining anything from a study of his empty expression, she headed into the guardroom.  

She couldn’t help but glance at the door leading from the lobby to the boiler room when she left at the end of her shift that day.

***

Wash came into Mother of Invention around the same time as the week before, messenger bag slung over his shoulder. His body’s frame was lost among the swathes of fabric of his grey hoodie, and Tucker caught a glimpse of tiny initials stitched into his messenger bag with yellow thread.

“Where are your friends?” Tucker asked when Wash reached the counter. “That CT chick and Mohawk dude.”

That night there were two young couples in the café, but nobody behind Wash in line just like the last time. One of the couples had blatantly given up on any study attempt, and Tucker did his best to ignore their increasingly overt displays of affection.

“Couldn’t come tonight,” Wash replied, before his gaze swung away from the menu board to focus on Tucker’s face. “Wait, how do you know Connie’s nickname?”

“Uh, she was at the pool the other day when we were looking for Caboose’s goggles. So does that mean CT isn’t her real name?”

“It’s a nickname,” Wash said slowly as he withdrew his wallet from his bag. “For the pool because of everyone’s names. But outside the pool…she’s Connie.”

“Cool, cuz I was gonna ask if initial names were even still a thing,” Tucker said, tilting his head. “Although I guess if there’s a pool full of weirdos with states as their names, initials isn’t that strange.”

“Says you, _Lavernius_.”

Tucker’s mouth fell open a little at that and he desperately flipped through all his memories to see when he’d given Wash that piece of information.

“How the fuck–”

“Tex told me.”

Tucker swore. Even if he wanted to punch her for that, he knew he would never make it out of the encounter alive. He made a resolution to punch Church when he got home as consolation. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave Wash a mock glare.

“Well since we’re supposed to have a truce, I think it’s only fair you tell me your first name.”

The truce had been working out well for the most part, not that Tucker gave up on teasing and arguing with Wash every chance he got. But the words were no longer intended to mark his body with invisible wounds like before. And Wash’s training was a little easier to swallow when he eased off and didn’t act so superior all the time.

“I said it the first day of aquafit.”

“Yeah I wasn’t listening,” Tucker admitted, and Wash rolled his eyes.

“Of course you weren’t. It’s David.”

“You’re lying,” Tucker replied, narrowing his eyes as he studied Wash’s face. A small smile began to form on his lips and he shook his head at Tucker. “No fair, you can’t just have a normal first name! It’s defies the physics of the pool.”

Wash outright laughed at that, and Tucker felt himself stilling at the new sound. With the air punctuated by the noise and the motion reducing Wash’s body to a state resistant to his discipline, Tucker could finally see the university student contained within the suit of severity Wash wore the rest of the time as a lifeguard. The difference fascinated Tucker, and the desire to keep Wash in the state for as long as possible sprung into existence as suddenly as losing one’s balance on an icy patch of the sidewalk.

 “You know, I get that you’re watching out for our lives or whatever,” Tucker began once Wash’s laughter quieted. From the way he blinked when he stopped laughing, Tucker guessed Wash had even caught himself off guard with the reaction. “But it’s a fucking public pool that gets _at most_ sixty people in it at a time. So you guys don’t have to be so paranoid and serious all the time.”

“The Director has certain standards,” Wash started to explain, but Tucker cut him off before he could get another syllable out.”

“Jesus Christ, you call your guys’ boss _the Director_? Are you working at a pool or some creepy ass lab?”

Wash rolled his eyes, and opened his wallet to examine the cash he had on him.

“It’s not that weird. Everyone does, even Carolina, and he’s her dad.”

“He’s–” Tucker stopped, connections lighting up in his mind like a hundred tiny circuit boards. “So that’s Church’s uncle?”

Wash pulled out a ten dollar bill and gave Tucker a wide look.

“You mean you didn’t know that?”

Tucker shrugged.

“We don’t really talk much about our families. Carolina’s the one Church mentions the most out of them, but I’ve never met her. Well, not before the pool but I don’t know if her saying a sentence and looking like she could kill me horribly within seconds counts.”

“Carolina’s the same way,” Wash mused. “Not about the killing people, though yeah, she could definitely do that. But talking about her family. She mentions Church sometimes, but I don’t think anyone had met him until you guys started coming to the pool.”

“Which I will forever blame Church for.”

Wash smiled a little at that, and then turned their attention back to their location by order a café mocha with extra whip cream. Tucker went to work, glancing over Wash’s shoulder once beforehand to make sure no other customers had come in yet. The couple that should have just moved to a bedroom by that point seemed like they might actually leave soon, and Tucker breathed a silent thank you to any deity listening.

“So I was thinking,” Tucker called to Wash as the machine rumbled in front of Tucker, “since we have a truce now, you should switch up the music at aquafit a bit.”

“Pretty sure the truce was mostly applicable to water polo.”

“No, see, since you said I had to tone down everything, that means your part applies to every interaction.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to change the music, though.”

“But nobody likes it!” Tucker glared at the stubborn Wash. He thought he noticed a slight tinge of red at the tips of Wash’s ears, and he could imagine a similar shade staining Wash’s neck where it was hidden by the hoodie. “Oh my god, hold on–do you actually like it?”

“It’s not bad music,” Wash said, crossing his arms over his chest. A hint of a scowl materialized on his face and Tucker couldn’t help grinning in response.

“Yeah but it’s old as _fuck_.” Tucker shook his head. “Geez, Wash, 80s music and kids’ cartoons–are you eighty or eight?”

“I can like both of them without it saying anything about my age.”

“Okay fine fine, but it _does_ say that you’re a complete and utter dork.”

Tucker grabbed a cup and moved to pour Wash’s drink as the man tried to come up with a response.

“You watch those cartoons, too,” he replied as Tucker applied the whipped cream.

“I have a kid, dude. And I seem to recall you bringing up the comics when we were talking about them with Junior.”

Wash sighed and Tucker handed him the drink in exchange for the bill. Tucker offered him the change with a cocky grin and watched Wash tuck his wallet away without moving off.

“Hey, no worries, I’ll still listen to you as much as I always do even though I know about all this.”

“That’s not really encouraging given how little you listen in the first place,” Wash replied, but the dry teasing tone had returned.

He wrapped his hand around his drink before telling Tucker thank you and wandering off to an empty booth. Tucker watched him pull out a textbook and then Tucker returned to his own work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta for helping me with Kai and Carolina's characters in this part.
> 
> Also, I have unfortunately had to add a tag to the story. Minor in terms of their part in this fic/AU, and I still promise as happy of ending as I can get. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, sorry if it was a bit fragmented.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Theta, what’s wrong?”

Just as South had told everyone, they had a potluck breakfast on the sixth Saturday of lessons. The first lesson started at 8:30, so South and the others made sure to get to the pool an hour early to get the grills they brought from home all warmed up. Well, South showed up at 7:30am, which meant Tex had to as well since one manager needed to unlock the building and let them in. And since South was there that early, she dragged North along with her, even though he made his fruit trays the night before and therefore didn’t need any further preparation.

By the time York arrived with Carolina ten minutes later, both grills were already crammed with sizzling food. South worked on shaping her pancakes on the grill she’d set up by the fridge while Wyoming and Maine fried eggs and bacon on the grill set up on the guard desk facing the window. Tex had shoved the smoothies she made for everyone in the fridge before tapping away at the computer. North peeled away the saran wrap from his fruit and Carolina gave him a smile when she saw they were one of the few healthy food items in the room.

“And absolutely nobody is surprised by this,” York commented as he surveyed the array of coloured fruit spread across the plate. He snatched up a strawberry before anyone else could, and Carolina slapped his hand away when he reached for seconds.

“Wait for the others,” Carolina said. “And don’t hog all the strawberries to yourself–you know Wash and Maine love them.”

“Anybody touches that fucking watermelon before I get a slice, they will die via pancake spatula,” South hollered at them without looking up from her grill.

“So, dear girl, what did you bring to share with us today?” Wyoming asked Carolina after flipping another egg. She raised the plastic container in her hand for him to see, an identical one clutched in York’s hands.

“York and I made blueberry and chocolate chip muffins last night.”

North had known that, if only because York wouldn’t stop texting him about it before the event, and North wouldn’t stop teasing him after it. North still didn’t know how York managed to get himself into Carolina’s house holding an armful of baking ingredients without giving her any advance notice, but he was willing to bet their boss’ mutual, if unspoken, affections for York helped smooth way. All North knew for sure was the night resulted in three dozen muffins, flour smeared across Carolina’s face, and one very happy York.

Maine made a quick sign in reply to claim all blueberry ones and York just clutched the container closer to his chest. The grin on his face, though, detracted from any potential threat, and Maine rolled his eyes.

The door banged open a second later, followed by the entrance of a breathless Connie and Wash. The moment they stepped across the doorway, they began to apologize for being late.

“Just tell us what you brought,” South interrupted, and Connie happily offered them all a container stacked with cookies. Wash held up a pack of Timbits.

“ _Really,_ Wash?” South asked. A smirk stretched across her face, and North watched the familiar red tinge begin to paint his co-worker’s face. “I’m here slaving over this grill, making sure everyone’s pancakes is the _perfect_ shape, Wyoming and Maine are going to need to jump in the pool with all the sweat their grill is causing–and you _bought_ Timbits?”

“You guys know I can’t cook!”

“This is true,” York said, humour running through every syllable. “I’m not really sure what we were expecting.”

“Effort.”

“Does the fact that I asked for extra sour cream glazed make up for it?”

South paused, spatula hovering over a fresh pancake.

“It means I won’t throw you in the pool. But I get to rag on you about this till at least the next potluck.”

If they decided on another breakfast, they all knew Wash would just buy more Timbits, just like he knew all of them would never actually regret the buying of them. The one thing they all agreed on was that the small balls of sugar made any work shift better.

“I do we believe our work here is done,” Wyoming called before the conversation could dissolve any further.

South informed everyone that her pancakes were done and Carolina began to pull plastic plates and cutlery from the cupboards above the sink. North moved to unstack the chairs with Connie while Tex passed around the smoothies she’d made that morning before coming in. Once everyone had their seats arranged in a semi-circle, with Maine, Wash, and Connie claiming the cot, the food began to be passed around. To absolutely nobody’s surprise, Wash got all of the pancakes shaped like cats and all of North’s were penis shaped, South’s laughter filling the air when they first saw them.

For the first two minutes, everyone stayed quiet, content simply to inhale their food. It didn’t take long for the loud banter and swearing to pervade the room, and North barely managed to dodge the grape South chucked at him after one of his comments. Halfway through, Carolina got up and said something about bringing a plate to the Director. She piled a plate with fruit and a muffin, avoiding all the less healthy food they knew the man would toss in the trash.

North only noticed Carolina’s return because York reacted to her presence within seconds of its entrance, but she remained quiet. When York asked a whispered question North couldn’t hear, she simply shook her head and smiled around the next bite of pancake.

The guardroom was a mess by the time lessons were to start, and nobody seemed ready to do anything but throw away their plates at that moment. Tex was the first to offer to remain and clean up so the guards who were teaching didn’t have to on their breaks, and North spotted the startled look Carolina gave Tex. North only had time for a quick thanks and smile in her direction before hurrying out the door to greet the waiting Theta.

Theta appeared as timid as he had the first day of lessons when North greeted him on deck. The boy followed North toward the pool at a single word, but he didn’t elaborate when North asked him how his week had been. He responded with a simple and quiet “good” before retreating into silence. When North reminded him that the next Saturday would be report card day as it was the last lesson for the session, Theta merely nodded. His face remained devoid of a smile, voice empty of excitement, and his small body hunched as he shifted closer to North when he gave instructions.

Theta fared no better during the swimming portion of the lesson. Each mistake resulted in a bit lip and a whispered apology. He kept stopping halfway through each swim to grab onto North’s arm, clinging to North’s side like a barnacle to a ship’s hull.When North asked him if he was hurt, Theta would just shake his head and then launch himself forward and repeat the same action a few metres later.

After ten minutes, North stopped the lesson in the shallow end.

“Theta, what’s wrong?” North asked as softly as he could, crouching so he was eye-level with the smaller boy.

Theta stayed quiet for a long time before finally mumbling,

“My dad went away again.”

“Your dad?” North repeated, and Theta nodded.

“He does that a lot.”

“Does he go for work?”

“Mom says so. But she never tells me some stuff and she’s always sending me to Ms. Kimball’s.”

He fell quiet for another moment before adding in a small voice, “I heard Mom tell Grandma they were gonna find Dad in a ditch this time and Omega said that means he’s gonna die.”

He looked up at North with wide eyes and for the first time in North’s life, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say or do to improve the situation.

“Omega’s wrong, Theta,” North said, praying words would make the small boy’s lip stop quivering. The pool, he knew, wasn’t the place the issue should be dealt with, but it was the only place they currently had. “I’m sure your dad will come back just fine.”

Theta’s lip no longer wobbled, but his eyes were still big and his face still pale. North suggested they do some dives to make him feel better, glancing at the red numbers on the clock on the wall. When he looked back to Theta, the boy only shook his head and his tears seemed even closer to falling than they had before.

“Theta–”

“Everyone said you’re going to leave, too,” Theta blurted out. “And I’ll get a new teacher and I won’t ever see you again!”

“The–”

“I promise I’ll swim even better! I’ll swim two whole laps and breathe on my side and I won’t even belly-flop anymore!”

“Theta, Theta, it’s okay.”

“Please don’t go,” Theta whispered, and North placed his hands on the boy’s thin shoulders.

“I promise I will do what I can to be your teacher again,” he said. “I have to talk to my manager but I will do my best. And if you keep coming to the pool, I will definitely see you even if I’m not your teacher. Okay?”

Theta gulped in a noisy breath and before North could say anything else, the boy flung his arms around North’s neck. Without thinking, North lifted his arms to hold Theta in place. One hand patted Theta’s curlyhair and the other his cold back as he refused to let go.

The moment North had a fifteen minute break between his lessons that day, he headed toward the Director’s office that sat directly across from the guard room. Unlike the guardroom, only one small window sat in the wall facing the pool, and nobody but the Director took up space in the space. His desk was his alone, papers neatly stacked and organized while he sat typing at a computer.

“Yes, North?” The Director said when North tapped on the door. The man spared him a single glance to identify him before returning his gaze to the computer screen.

“Do you have time to discuss next session’s schedule?”

“That depends on what you wish to discuss.”

“I wanted to put in a request to have the same private lesson, if possible.” North held out his attendance sheet when he continued. “I have the barcode for it written down. The kid, Theta, is very shy around new people but he’s comfortable with me now and I think he’d get the most productive lesson if he was to have me again as a teacher.”

“Is this sentiment, North?” The Director finally looked up from the screen, fingers pausing on the black computer keys. “You know your job is to teach and mark objectively, not make friends.”

“No, sir,” North replied. He didn’t fidget, and he refused to let his gaze flit away. “It’s not sentiment. But as you know, children listen better and tend to work harder with someone they trust or have previous experience with. Theta is very timid and any new instructor will have to take time away from the actual swimming part of the lesson to build up a rapport with him to get him off the wall. I already have that with him.”

It could be a lie, or it could be the truth. For Delta had said Theta adored people once he warmed up to them, but he hadn’t said how easily he replaced one person with another. While there were some people who flipped between the rapidly changing faces in their life with ease, Theta could just as well be the type that clung to the people they knew with a desperate intensity. Judging by their lesson that day, he was the latter, for which North could sympathize with.

The Director pressed his fingers together and rested his chin on top of them as he studied North’s expression.

“Very well,” he finally said. “As it is, Ms. Kimball has already asked if it’s possible for all the children she babysits to receive the same teachers for next session. She thinks they’re all learning extremely well with the ones they have, though I’m more doubtful of how badly they’d really do with a new teacher.”

“Thank you, sir,” North said, knowing the Director rarely needed or wanted their advice on his decisions. Unless asked, North knew to keep most of his opinions to himself and simply offer straightforward gratitude.

North turned to go but stopped when the Director called his name.

“If you see Carolina before your next lesson, let her know I want to talk to her about the privates she’ll be getting next session.”

***

When Tucker arrived on the pool deck with Church Monday morning, they found the deck much busier than it ever was. By the furthest benches stood a full other team of water polo players, swim caps on and chatting to each other as they waited by the water’s edge. On the far side of the pool, Wash and Sarge were arguing while the Reds treaded water below them. Church and Tucker began to make their way over, when someone’s shout drew him to a halt.

“Hey, Tucker!”

Tucker turned around slowly, hoping he had misidentified the voice. After spending every Sunday for the last few weeks listening to the same obnoxiously loud voice, though, Tucker doubted he was mistaken. Sure enough, when he turned, he saw Felix striding toward him with a growing smirk on his face.

“Seriously?” Tucker demanded. “Was spending every other hour of the day at this place not enough for you? Now you gotta come in the morning too? Are you and Locus in a competition to see who can be the biggest pool rat?”

“Says the dude who comes here as often as me,” Felix shot back. “Don’t worry, jackass, we’re just here for a match.”

“Match?”

“Uh yeah, against _your_ team?”

Tucker blinked. “Jesus, you really don’t have a clue about anything, do you?”

“I know you’re a class A douchebag.”

“Wow, Tucker, real original. I don’t know how I’ll keep going with that insult.”

“Tucker!” They both turned at the sound of Church’s shout. He had already reached Wash, who seemed to have reached some sort of agreement with Sarge.

“Felix,” Locus called from a few feet away, glaring at his teammate. “Maybe if you put half as much energy into your warm-up as heckling the other team, you would actually do as well as you think you do.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m coming.” He rolled his eyes and then offered Tucker one last cocky grin. “Don’t get too upset when we destroy all of you. Nobody likes a sore loser.”

“Why don’t you give that advice to your own team? I’m sure they’ll need it.”

Both of them offered the other one a narrowed look before heading over to their respective teams. Church waited for Tucker on deck, glaring at his approach.

“Have fun sharing childish insults?” Church asked.

“Shut the fuck up, Church.”

“Seriously, I know he’s a douchebag but he’s fucking younger than us. Leave it alone.”

“Since when have you _ever_ followed that kind of advice?”

“Okay,” Wash cut in before either of them could continue to argue.

Caboose sat cross-legged against the wall behind them, and Wash’s voice brought the Reds over as well. All of them were present with the exception of Lopez, and when Tucker glanced over at the change rooms, he saw Kai heading their way.

“Sup,” she greeted them.

Tucker tried not to stare, given Kai rarely ever showed up so early. He had seen Wash talking to her the other week, but when he’d jokingly asked both of them if they were trying to get into the others’ pants, Kai simply said “gross” and Wash responded with a dry “there are other reasons people talk to each other, you know.” None of them had said anything more on the matter, and Grif had simply shrugged when Tucker asked him.

Whether Wash had expected her to show up or not, Tucker couldn’t tell. The lifeguard simply nodded at her and then continued to speak.

“Today we’re going to be playing an exhibition match,” Wash explained. “I talked to Locus and Felix when they were at the pool for rec swim and they agreed to get their team to play against us.”

“Us?” Simmons repeated. “As in, all of us? Like with Tex?”

“Yes, exactly like with Tex,” Wash agreed. “Well not exactly, I don’t want you guys to lose like you did against her.”

“Did _anyone_ get a heads up about this?” Tucker asked, and everyone but Sarge and Kai shook their heads.

“And you agreed to this, Sarge?” Grif demanded, and everyone stared at the Red coach with wide eyes.

Tucker hadn’t thought Wash could get the man to agree to team up without the threat of Tex standing beside him. He didn’t know whether to be impressed, or terrified that Wash might have agreed to do something horrible for the Blues in order to seal the deal.

“What an excellent idea, sir!” Donut exclaimed, with a smile at everyone. “It’s nice to mix up your usual party members every once and awhile, and make things more exciting.”

Grif and Simmons both closed their eyes in response to their teammate’s comment, but Wash just continued speaking.

“Right, so it will be all of us versus them. Obviously this isn’t a league match or anything since you guys aren’t in a league, but Felix and Locus’ team is. So if you _do_ want to enter a league, this is the kind of skill level we’ll be up against.”

Wash and Sarge went on to give everyone their positions. They needed six field players and a goalie in the pool at one time. Caboose got put on goalie, with Simmons and Donut playing defensively. Church, Tucker, and Sarge would be playing as drivers, which left the hole set to Kai and Grif alternatively.

Tucker wondered if Wash thought using their one substitute for Grif and Kai would make the lazy man actually try on his shifts. With anyone else, it might have worked. With Grif, it would more than likely backfire.

“Just remember practices,” Wash said at the end, speaking directly to the Blues then. “Caboose, help the _other_ team. Church, aim at least five feet away from your target and the ball should actually hit the target. Tucker. Just–”

“Try?” Tucker suggested, and he spotted the hint of a smile Wash tried to hide.

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on losing to this tool.”

For the first two quarters of the game, they actually managed to keep up with Felix and Locus’ team. Felix played more of a defensive position, sticking to his player like an industrial band-aid and keeping up a steady stream of commentary the entire time. Locus, in contrast, stayed quiet and raced up and down the field with cold determination. His shots were nearly perfect in aim, though Caboose managed to save more shots than Tucker would have originally guessed he could.

Having the Reds made a difference, if only because it meant more players to pass to and try to score. Players to pass to who _wouldn’t_ throw the ball five feet from their intended target, though Wash’s strategy for Church now worked about half the time. By the time the halftime break rolled around, they were only losing to Felix’s team by two points and Tucker had the pleasure of beating Felix to the ball at three starts of play.

“You know, I don’t actually feel like death,” Simmons said while they sat on the deck. Most of the others were busy drinking from their water bottles, but Kai grinned.

“Hell yeah, these guys are nothing,” she agreed, leaning over to poke Grif’s side. He scowled at her and drew his knees up to his chest protectively. “Even fatass is keeping up with them most of the time.”

“Most of the time? I got more goals than you, Kai.”

“Yeah but you also let Locus get by you more times than me,” she replied, sticking out her tongue at him.

“Can you blame me? The dude looks at me like I’m some slab of meat he wants to throw on the barbeque.”

Wash let them banter for a few minutes while Sarge interjected with the occasional insult for Grif and threats to throw the water polo ball at his face if he didn’t try harder. When five minutes came to an end, Wash gave them some quick words of encouragement before they all slipped back into the pool and to the same positions as the first two quarters.

Felix and Locus’ team transformed in the second part of the game. Suddenly nobody on the Reds or Blues could get within five feet of their goal, and anyone who tried was met with rough body blocks that bordered on a penalty. Locus and Felix became an unstoppable current even as poor Caboose did his best to block their shots. The smacking noise of ball on skin each time he saved a shot made Tucker wince, and he half-expected to see bruises blooming on the goalie’s pale skin already.

Felix’s comments were filled with jagged shards of mockery, and Tucker wanted to punch the player in the mouth even more than before. He also wanted to demand if this had been their strategy all along, lull the other team into a false sense of security by making them think they had a chance of standing head-to-head before destroying them in the second half.

The gap in their scores widened steadily with each passing minute, but Tucker refused to give up. The rest of the Reds and Blues drooped in their positions, but continued to follow Tucker’s lead in some capacity, and Sarge never stopped shouting his insulting encouragements.

In the fourth quarter, Tucker managed to outswim Felix for a few precious seconds. He charged past the other player toward the net, shouting to Church who treaded on the opposite side of the pool, trapped with the ball clutched in one hand. Their gazes met and before Tucker said another word, Church launched the ball into the air. Tucker swore, but the ball only landed a few inches off its mark, and Tucker had it in his hand in the next second. With Felix coming up on Tucker’s shoulder, arms reaching out to block the throw, Tucker sent the ball flying toward the net.

The ball shot past the goalie and Tucker heard Church’s loud whoop a few feet away. Tucker grinned, shoving aside Felix with a smirk as Tucker swam back to his side to give Church a high-five and start the play again. Wash offered them both a smile in response, calling over,

“You see what happens when you actually try,Tucker?”

But ten seconds later, Felix had the ball once more, swimming up the side of the bulkhead toward Caboose. Tucker reached him at the five metre line from the goal, stopping directly in front of Felix and his line to the goal. When Felix stretched his arm back as if to throw the ball to another player, Tucker pushed himself as far out of the water as possible to block it.

Felix didn’t try to throw the ball, never letting it leave his grip as he smashed it as hard as he could into Tucker’s exposed stomach. Vomit tried to follow the air that whooshed from Tucker, and his entire respiratory system shut down with a loud screech. Water rose above Tucker’s chin, nose, and eyes as he curled in on himself, arms wrapping around his stomach. The water embracing every part of him should have concerned him, but he was more focused on the fact that he suddenly _couldn’t remember how to breathe_.

Hands grabbed at his forearms and armpits, jerking him above the surface of the water. Tucker spluttered and gagged on the air as the concerned shouts of his teammates strove to break through his pain-fuelled panic. But only their voices were clear, not the shape of the words, and Tucker couldn’t respond. Then arms were looping under his armpits and hands tightened around his wrists, forcing his arms to squeeze against his chest.

Vertigo gripped him as he found himself being lifted into the air, and Tucker had to fight back a wave of nauseatingly dizziness. The metal panels of the bulkhead scraped against his bare legs when someone dragged him across the surface to the pool deck, but Tucker barely noticed because _he still couldn’t breathe._

The cool surface of the wall pressed against his back, and finally a little trickle of air managed to sneak past the blockage in his windpipe and penetrate his clogged lungs. As if they had been waiting for that all along, his muscles relaxed and more air seeped into his lungs.

“–okay?” Wash was saying, and Tucker blinked up at him.

The rest of his surroundings came into focus, and he glanced over at where Church and Caboose hovered by the side of the pool, staring at Tucker. The rest of the play had stopped as Wash crouched over Tucker where he remained propped against the wall.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Tucker said, for once deciding not to milk it when he saw how wide Wash’s eyes were and how tense his shoulders were. “Asshole just got a good shot to my gut and fucking winded me. You know the kind where you legit can’t breathe?”

“Yeah. Is that all? You don’t need any treatment?”

“What? No, dude, it’s fine, just let me catch my breath and yell at the fucking asshole and I’ll be good.”

“Right,” Wash said. “Okay, you just sit there for a sec and I’ll go deal with the rest.”

“What–” Tucker began, but Wash just straightened and walked away before he could get another syllable out.

Church hauled himself out of the pool to come sit by Tucker, and they both watched Wash stalk over to Felix. In the absence of their official coach who Felix said had trusted the team to take care of themselves for an exhibition match, Wash just gestured at Felix to get out of the pool. The player climbed out with a lazy smirk and Wash didn’t even wait for him to stand before he started lecturing him.

Wash didn’t shout, though they heard his voice rise in pitch a couple times. The way his shoulders remained stiff as the muscles in his back continually shifted and his hands curled into fists made his anger clear, though. Tucker had to admit it was nice watching Wash get pissed at someone else for Tucker, and a sentiment similar to when Junior tried baking cookies for Tucker in his Easy Bake oven swelled in his chest.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Tucker said to Church in an effort to ignore the feeling, “because Felix is a douche and that hurt like hell, but Tex beat us up pretty bad a couple weeks ago.”

“Yeah but that’s Tex,” Church replied, as if that was answer enough. “In your case, it’s like the difference between your pissed off sister punching you for stealing the TV remote, and some random douche pulling a knife on you in a bar.”

Felix accepted a penalty after what seemed like much protestation, and the remaining minutes of the game went by without any similar excitement. Afterwards, Felix offered Tucker a smug smile and congratulations on managing to score some goals while they both still treaded in the pool. Tucker opened his mouth to snap a retort, but Church beat him to it.

“Got a goal past your pathetic ass,” Church said. “Too bad you couldn’t manage the same even after punching him.”

Felix just smiled at him.

“I hope we’ll see you guys in some league games soon. Beating you every time should be a good morale boost for the team.”

Felix swam off with half a wave and before they could consider going after him, Sarge and Wash were calling for their attention.

“Fucking prick,” Tucker muttered, and Church nodded his agreement.

But when they climbed out of the pool and Wash finished giving them his run-down of the game, Tucker couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease.

“Way to freak out on Felix’s ass back there, Wash,” Tucker said after the Reds had dispersed to the other side and Caboose trapped Church in conversation with Kai. “I would have thought I was dying the way you were ripping him apart.”

Wash turned to him, a little of the tightness returning to the corner of his eyes. But when he caught sight of Tucker’s smile, his shoulders relaxed a little, though any amusement remained hidden away.

“You guys are on my team,” he replied simply. “It’s my job to take care of you.”

The teasing remarks shrivelled on Tucker’s tongue and he could only blink in response. The sentiment from early flickered hopefully, but Church’s sudden voice crushed it.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” Church asked, and Tucker turned to glare at his roommate. He just smirked at them, but Wash didn’t rise to the bait.

“Don’t worry, Church, I wouldn’t dare disturb your delicate sentiment allergies.”

A laugh burst from Tucker and Wash shot him a smile when Church scowled. Wash wandered away as Tucker tried to stifle his laugh.

“It wasn’t that funny,” Church snapped at him.

“Whatever you say, Church.”

They crossed the bulkhead together, Caboose not following them only because he’d stopped to talk with Wash. Kai had joined her brother where he stood in a debate with Simmons and Donut still across the pool. When the two passed the guardroom, though, the door swung open and Carolina’s voice stopped them.

Tucker turned with Church as she walked over to them, eyes on Church’s uncertain expression.

“You missed dinner Sunday,” she said as a way of greeting, and Church’s scowl returned in an instant.

“I don’t have to go to every fucking one,” Church said, but he sounded as petulant as Junior when he complained about eating his vegetables.

“True,” Carolina agreed. “I guess I’m just surprised you didn’t text me or give him some excuse.”

Tucker looked back and forth between the two, unsure if he should leave or not. He knew Church had been home Sunday night and pissed off over something because Tucker got a text from Tex that simply said, _Church is being pissy, Make sure he eats._

Tucker had been in his room with Junior at the time, trying to get him to clean up all his toys. He had replied with a quick, _why the fuck is that my problem?_

_Because you’re his fucking roommate, I’m halfway across the city, and you have Junior on your side._

Sure enough, Church had responded a little less violently when Junior went into his room with food than if Tucker had done it. But Tex didn’t reply after that or explain what had happened.

“Will you be there Wednesday?” Carolina asked before Church could give her a reply.

“Of course. Have I ever fucking missed it?”

Carolina shrugged.

“Just making sure.”

She returned to the guardroom, and Church watched her go in silence for a long moment. Tucker had to nudge his shoulder to get him to turn away and start moving toward the change room again.

“So what’s so special about Wednesday?” Tucker finally asked when they reached the doors of the change room and Church still hadn’t spoken.

“Anniversary of Aunt Allison’s death,” Church replied. A beat of silence passed.

“Shit, dude,” Tucker finally managed to say. “I’m sorry.”

Tucker knew the basics about Allison and her death. Namely, that Allison died on a military tour overseas when a landmine went off. That Carolina had been twelve, and Church eleven when it happened.  That Allison had been Church’s favourite aunt and he went to Carolina’s house every year on the anniversary. That Church still sometimes got nightmares about her death, though he never mentioned them unless in a situation where he could hand-wave it away as nothing too emotionally serious.

They opened their lockers and began to change into clothes in silence.

“We still good for the movies on Tuesday?” Tucker asked.

“Of course.”

“And Tex is still coming over for dinner Thursday?”

“Yeah.” Church glanced at him. “Why?”

“Just checking.”

Tucker would never say it to Church’s face, but he was glad Church still had things to look forward to in life surrounding the day of death and memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you bring Canadian lifeguards Timbits on their shift you will earn their eternal love. 
> 
> Thank you to my beta for making sure everyone was in character (especially Felix, who I really just wanted to write about drowning)! And thank you for everyone's support! The next chapter might be a bit later than normal as all my final school projects are due within the next two weeks, and next chapter might end up being longer than usual. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every year, dinner was a silent affair.

When Tucker got home from his night class Wednesday, he found himself too tired to be productive but not tired enough to sleep. His mind would not shut down, but wouldn’t focus itself on any of the schoolwork he should be doing. Church hadn’t returned yet, and Tucker wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to just stay at his uncle’s for the night and go to the pool with Carolina in the morning. At least that way he’d have a ride.

Instead of attempting to go to sleep given the long day ahead of him on Thursday, Tucker grabbed his laptop and cellphone from his room and set up camp on the couch in the living room. He sent off a bunch of short texts to the other Reds and Kai as he wasted his time on the Internet, but only Kai responded.

 _I’m bored,_ Tucker responded to her inquiry about his house burning down. _Come over._

_That would require me getting dressed._

_Not if you don’t want to ;)_

_Getting arrested for public nudity is only fun the first three times._

Tucker didn’t even bother to ask when that had happened, though he was a little surprised it hadn’t happened when they had been drunk together.

 _So how naked_ are _you right now?_

_Wouldn’t you like to know._

Tucker snorted a little at that, getting up to pour a glass of chocolate milk before wandering back and responding.

_Please, Kai. I’m booooooored._

_So come over here._

_I’m not_ that _bored._

_Then go fuck yourself :P_

Tucker stuck his tongue out at the screen and let his grip on the device loosen. He stared up at the cracks in the ceiling for a moment while spinning his phone in his hand, swearing when he fumbled it and it clattered to the ground.

 _You coming to practice tomorrow?_ Tucker asked when he retrieved his phone. _Will you be early like Monday?_

The light of his laptop screen hurt his tired eyes and he rubbed at them, but continued scrolling through the junkyard of the Internet. Kai’s reply came a few seconds later, phone shaking his hand with the multiple messages.

_Why the fuck would I?_

_It’s just a practice this time._

_And Washington’s a fucking asshole._

Tucker stared at the messages for a long moment, and the miniscule gap in the time stamp of each one. There were no emoticons tacked on to give him a hint at her tone, and the conversation he’d witnessed them having took on another layer of confusion.

“Fuck it,” Tucker muttered. He brought up the settings and hit the call button.

Kaikaina let it ring four times while Tucker tapped his thigh, before finally picking up with a snapped,

“What?”

 “I know you don’t like Wash cuz he’s a pool cop,” Tucker said, “But did something else happen? I know you guys talked the other week, and I figured that meant you hated him less.”

“Just him being a dick as usual.”

“Kai,” Tucker began, and then stopped, wondering when exactly his life had transformed him into the mediator between the lifeguards and his friends.

“He’s an asshole,” Kai insisted. “You and Caboose are always going on about how fucking great he is and how he got super mad at Felix for you and checks to make Caboose is okay from class but when the fuck has he _ever_ given a shit about me?”

Tucker blinked. He glanced at his laptop screen one last time and then closed it to give the conversation his full attention.

“What?”

“He came up to me and started going on and on about motivating the Reds and Grif and how I can help make them better players by showing up because competition with me motivates Grif or whatever, but he hasn’t even fucking _tried_ to motivate me to come more and he’s supposed to be the Blues coach and I’m a Blue.”

With each new word, the anger melted into a frustration that made her voice smaller and smaller, until the last statement only sounded sad and uncertain. In a way, neither her reaction nor Washington’s actions were surprising at that point. From Tucker’s point of view, Wash wasn’t nearly as subtle as he thought about getting the Reds and Blues to be on one team, and his desire to have the Reds improve only added to the pile of evidence. As for Kai, shestill lived with Grif and Donut, and as much as she complained about them and disappeared to see her own friends, she constantly joined in their hangouts and jumped on the opportunity to play water polo with them.

None of which Wash would know about.

“Okay,” Tucker said, grasping at the thoughts scattered throughout his brain. He let his head fall back and rest on the headrestof the couch. “I’m not saying that Wash is right here or that Grif does need to change, but I don’t think Wash meant to make you feel like that. He probably just thinks you’re already such a good player, you don’t need the extra help.”

The other end stayed silent for a long moment.

“Really?” Kai asked, hesitation crackling over the line.

“Totally. You’re the fastest player on our team and you score almost as many goals as me.”

“I score way more goals than you!”

“Okay, now you’re pushing it.”

“I’m getting Simmons to bring a tally card with me from now on so I can shove it in your face when I win.”

Tucker grinned.

“Yeah, okay. But back to my point. Wash probably just thinks you’re already really good. And you said he thought Grif tried when he competed against you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well maybe he thinks the same about you. That you can be motivated by playing against Grif just like he’s motivated by beating you.”

“You think he was trying to motivate both of us?” Kai repeated slowly, and Tucker nodded even though she couldn’t see it.

“Yup.” He paused and then decided to try pushing it a little bit further. “And it’s not so bad that he wants Grif to be good at this, right? It will make things more fun for you.”

“That’s true,” Kai agreed. “It’s no fun when he doesn’t even put up a fight.”

“Right,” Tucker said, relieved that it hadn’t just made her defensive again. “So, are you good? I swear I don’t think he meant to be an asshole about it.”

“Well he coulda just told me that,” she said, the anger replaced with her daily brand of stubbornness. “He didn’t have to be an asshole about it. I’m not mad, but I’m just saying.”

“Yeah well. Wash is an idiot a lot of the times so he kinda fucks up when it comes to that stuff. But he’s not like–a _cruel_ idiot. Like he doesn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You’re just saying that because you have a _horrible_ taste in men and you want to get into his pants,” Kai said, but he could hear the teasing lilt in her voice, and Tucker rolled his eyes.

“For once, I am not thinking with my dick here.”

“You feeling okay?”

“Ha ha.”

They both fell quiet and Tucker re-opened his laptop. He could hear the vague sound of a keyboard in use on Kai’s end, but neither of them hung up.

“So,” Tucker said after another few moments of silence and he felt the crisis had been averted. “You want to come over?”

“Do you have pizza?”

“Uh, no, but we can order some.”

Kai hummed for a bit before breathing out a noisy sigh.

“Fuck it, alright. I need to get away from Grif and Simmons’ ridiculous UST for a moment.”

“Is that why they didn’t answer my fucking texts?”

“They were arguing over a game a little while ago.”

“Those fuckers,” Tucker said. He opened a new tab to check how much money he actually had in his bank account at the moment. “Have they fucked yet?”

“Nope.”

“Are–”

“Trust me,” Kai interrupted him. “When it happens, I’ll know. I’ll bake them a cake and everything.”

“Congrats on the sex cake?”

“Exactly. I know Donut would love to help me.”

“Oh god.”

“Be there in twenty,” Kai said, ignoring the fear in Tucker’s voice. She hung up without another word and Tucker got to work ordering the pizza.

***

Every year, dinner was a silent affair.

Church sat at the large oak table in the dining room of Carolina and the Director’s home, barely tasting the food piled on plates scattered across the surface. At the head of the table sat the Director, Carolina to his right and Church to his left.

None of them said a word, just ate their food and let their thoughts wander. Church knew if Tucker had been there, he would have questioned the point of it all.

 _Why have everyone over for dinner if you’re not even gonna fucking talk to each other?_ He’d ask, and Church wouldn’t know how to explain, in part because he didn’t know the full explanation himself.

But he assumed it was because the Director wanted direct surveillance on that day. He may not be able to control their thoughts, but if they were in his house, eating food with him, it was more likely they would be thinking about Allison. If Church stayed at home or went out of his sight, there would be even less of a guarantee he remain in silent contemplation of the memories the Director refused to untangle himself from.

Also, Allison had loved it when they all had dinner together.

After the quiet dinner, the Director asked them if they would like to watch a video with him. He asked every year, and every year Carolina refused and Church imitated her. The Director just nodded and retreated into his study alone while Carolina and Church wandered over to the living room. Some years Carolina ignored Church, plucking a book from the shelf and opening it in her lap, but never turning a single page. Other years, they turned on the TV and watched something together while bitching at each other.

They wouldn’t see the Director again for the rest of the night, locked in his study with the home videos of Allison playing till the sunlight of a new day began to glimmer on the screen. Church knew there were home videos that had him in them, as well as Carolina, Church’s parents, and other people the Director and Allison had once been close to.

But Church didn’t need any video to see or hear the past. Growing up, his parents had so often left him at the Director’s house for weeks on end while they went away on their latest trip halfway across the world, that now the entire house vibrated with uncontained memories. They sprung into existence wherever Church looked, sometimes a grainy quality to the image or a tinny sound to the echoes, but there nevertheless.

He would look out the kitchen window and see the five year old Carolina swinging from the old tire Allison had hung from the tree branch, red pigtails lifting and falling with the motion.

He could walk up the driveway outside and still see it bursting with chalk drawings, messages, and games Carolina once played with Church as the pavement seared their knees in the summer heat.

In the shadow of the pine tree by the side of the house, he heard the way he had cried when he fell off a branch and broke his arm, Allison the first to sign his cast.

At the dining room table, he heard the fluttering pages of the math homework the Director used to help him with.

In the basement he heard the whispered ghost stories Carolina told him to give him nightmares at night, and saw her hiding in a game of hide-and-go-seek when he looked in the cupboards underneath the stairs.

In the living room, he saw the stain where he had once spilled the Director’s wine as they watched a movie together, and the stain of his five year old tears when his parents came to take him home for the night.

The Director’s bedroom held images of pillow fights and blanket forts with Allison when she was home, and bouncing off the bed with Carolina when her parents weren’t home.

“I’m going to bed,” Carolina announced a few hours later in the present.

They had watched some horror movie Church had forgotten the name of. He hated them, but knew Carolina always grew amused at his reactions. And on the days where she retreated into the past her parents encased her in, Church would make himself the laughingstock to bring her back again.

“Wuss,” Church responded.

She chucked the remote at him, and he swore as he fumbled with it.

“Hey.” She stopped in the doorway, the credits were rolling across the screen. “You still going through with your plan at the end of the school year?”

“You know I am,” she said, and he picked at the tape on the remote.

“I thought maybe–”

“My entrance exam is in February, Church.” She paused, and spared a glance over her shoulder. “You know that was the deal.”

He nodded, for he had. Complete her undergraduate degree and work at the pool for a year after, and the Director would accept her decision to join the RCMP. Given that he agreed to pay for her education and let her live at home rent-free throughout that time, Carolina hadn’t seemed to take any issue with it.

Church supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. While he fought against the Director having any further control over his life and his decisions, Carolina remained sympathetic to many of her father’s requests. And it wasn’t like Church’s cousin to change her mind on something was she made the decision.

“Yeah,” he finally said. “Just checking you hadn’t decided to get married to that lifeguard and stay in the province instead.”

“ _Good night_ , Church,” she said, and he repeated the sentiment back at her with a grin. She left without another sound.

Church watched her go, her shadow darkening the door of the Director’s study as she passed it.

That was one room whose memories Church hated stirring, and yet could never keep quiet. He wouldn’t move from the couch to the bedroom because he didn’t want to hear its echoes, but they filled his mind anyways.

For the study had become the embodiment of all the things that changed Dr. Leonard Church from Church’s uncle to the Director. When Allison died, it was as if all of the Director’s patience and acceptance of failure died with her. When he snapped at Church or Carolina, his voiced promised a violence that could crack icebergs in half, though he never outright touched them. He lost himself in his work in the study, and expected Church and Carolina to do the same with their own studies.

Church could remember Carolina crying at first, a picture of her mother kept under her pillow and the muffled sobs shaking her small frame. But while Church grew angry and mutinous,she grew hard like her father. If Church made a single mistake, he would be sent to an empty, dark room, and at least one meal was kept from him.

But it was what he saw in that study when he was thirteen that made him truly see what had Allison’s death had caused to lurk in the Director’s mind.

Church had gone to the Director’s study because he couldn’t find the first aid kit anywhere, nor his cousin to help him search. The moment he crossed the door frame, he knew he had chosen the wrong time. There was another man in the room and the Director stared at him with narrowed eyes. The man seemed torn between arguing, hands gesturing in front of him, and a caution that made his shoulders hunch.

“Uncle,” Church had begun at the same time the man said,

“Look, just listen t–”

There was no warning. One moment the Director stood still, and in the next second, his arm lashed forward and smashed into the man’s face. The man fell through the air as Church watched, crashing into the coffee table and bringing it down with him.

For a long moment Church could only stare at the wreckage; broken body lying amidst the cracked wood and shattered glass glittering in the light while the man’s groans filled the air. The Director stepped closer and only then could Church drag his gaze upward to him.

The man’s blood stained the Director’s knuckles and he stared at the man with as little emotion as he would spare a twig carelessly crushed underfoot. Church found he couldn’t look away from the vivid red, gaze following the way it dripped to the hardwood floor and eagerly consumed the Director’s grey pant legs when his hand brushed against them.

“Church.”

Church forced himself to look up and meet his uncle’s gaze. He towered above the boy, and Church swore he could hear each drop of blood smack the floor in the silence.

“Leave,” the Director said. “And from now on, knock before you barge in here.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

Church had left and dreamt of humanoid monsters devouring screaming soldiers that night.

The loud blare of a commercial startled Church from his memory and he swore, hurrying to press the mute button. Exhaustion swept through him and he pulled out his phone from his pocket to set an alarm. Alarm set and Tex’s last text replied to, Church grabbed the blanket Carolina brought early and settled on to the couch.

In the silence of the house, the whispers of Allison’s voice filled the dark spaces and burrowed into the occupants’ skin.

***

Connie tapped away at her phone as her fifteen minute break from guarding slowly ticked by. One of her textbooks rested on the guard desk, but no matter how determined she was to study or how quiet the rec swim was, she could never seem to bring herself to focus on schoolwork at the pool. She knew Wash rarely had the same problem, but her friend was so busy with all his work shifts and schoolwork, the choice had been taken away from him. Connie still had that choice and so far, she chose her phone over schoolwork.

She glanced up every once and awhile to make sure nobody had their guard alert up, but so far the rec swim passed by quietly. Carolina roved along the deck by the middle tank, having switched her morning manager shift with Tex. If the Director had been there, he would have lectured Connie for using her phone while working, even if she had been on break. The pool needed constant vigilance, he would say, and Connie would simply continue as she was, for she now wanted to be as far from his favourite as possible.

But the Director had stepped out and Carolina didn’t care nearly as much as her father. So long as everyone came up when they were supposed to and dealt with any patrons they needed to, technology could be used on break.

One minute left until Connie had to go back up, and she frowned when she realized Wyoming still hadn’t returned. The man had disappeared into the hallway at the start of their break to use the washroom, or so Connie had assumed.

Connie glanced back at the clock. Thirty seconds and still no sign of her co-worker.

Sparing another glance for the pool deck, Connie hurried into the hallway. Nobody stood in the dim lighting, and she strode to the bathroom door.

“Wyoming?” she asked as she knocked. She listened carefully, but didn’t hear a sound from inside.

Connie sighed, heading back toward the guardroom and looking through the window. He hadn’t appeared on deck yet and while they were technically supposed to do walkthroughs of the change rooms on their breaks, nobody ever did.

The only other place attached to the hallway was the boiler room, though none of them bothered to go inside unless there had been a pool fouling and they needed to get the bottles of liquid chlorine to manually pour into the pool.

Within three strides, Connie reached the boiler room door. She peered inside through the window, hand already grasping at the cool door handle to pull it open. The lights were on, and the room appeared as it always did.

Except for the prone form of Wyoming lying on the dirty floor.

Connie’s gaze widened and her entire body stilled. She pressed her face closer to the glass but fought against the instinct to swing open the door and charge inside. With the red lifeguard shirt, tall form, and black moustache, it only took a few seconds to confirm that the shape on the floor was indeed Wyoming.

 _Oh, fuck_ , Connie thought.

She turned and ran.

She sprinted through the guard room and then out onto the deck, slowing her pace to a fast walk so as not to slip in the multitude of puddles. Carolina had seen her coming, and began to walk toward her all while keeping her gaze on the pool.

“I think there’s a chemical leak,” Connie blurted the moment Carolina reached hearing range. “Wyoming’s passed out in the boiler room.”

One second blinked by.

“Evacuate the building now,” Carolina ordered, and started walking toward the guardroom as Connie followed her. “Get Florida to call 911 on my cell phone and South to go tell the BA. I’ll get the ventilation systems.”

When Connie nodded, Carolina dashed away. Connie took a deep breath, and then raised her whistle to her mouth and let the shrill noise ring through the air.

“I need everyone to get out of the pool now,” Connie said into the sudden quiet. Everyone stared at her, South and Florida shifting where they stood. “Please head through the change rooms and evacuate the building immediately.”

Most of the patrons went without a protest, though she saw them exchanging uncertain glances with each other and a few stopped to speak with South and Florida. The other two guards hurried them on as best they could with what Connie assumed was some reassurance about the situation being under control. She headed over to both of them, watching everyone leave as she explained what had happened.

“Well fuck,” South said, and even Florida looked a little less cheerful than normal. “Let’s get this done.”

South hurried off toward the change rooms and Florida ducked into the guardroom to grab Carolina’s cell phone.

“I’m assuming you’ll make sure the change rooms are clear?” he asked Connie when he came back out. Connie nodded and he headed off toward the lobby as he pressed the call button.

Connie had just finished herding people out of the women’s change room when Carolina reappeared.

“Family and men’s change rooms are clear,” Carolina told her. “Did the others complete their jobs?”

“Florida says a response team should be here any minute.”

“Okay, let’s get outside.”

They exited the empty building, and Carolina immediately tracked down the rest of the staff to give them a quick update. She only had a few seconds before patrons were demanding to know what was happening, gazes snagging on the black fabric of Carolina’s manager shirt and pouncing within seconds. Connie watched her handle all the questions, all the accusations and raised voices with a composed expression, voice never raising beyond a conversational volume.

South wandered over to where Connie stood, the tense shoulders and scowl dissuading anyone from trying to demand answers from her.

“North is gonna have an aneurysm when he hears what happened,” South said when she reached Connie. Connie nodded, wishing she had worn leggings like South instead of her shorts. Mid-October and already some days were growing too chilly for short clothes.

Though at least the evacuation hadn’t happened in the middle of December.

“You grab your phone?” Connie asked, and South shook her head.

“Only cell out here now is Carolina’s. Sides, I still got a night class to get through after my shift–I don’t want to be dealing with all North’s worried messages till after that.”

“Yeah but you know Carolina’s going to send out an email about what happened and when we can open the pool again to everyone as soon as she can. Which will probably be before your night class.”

“Fuck.” South’s scowl deepened. “He’s been bad enough this week just going on about Theta, let alone this.”

“Do you think Wyoming’s okay?” Connie asked.

Carolina hadn’t said anything, but Connie hadn’t expected her to when she didn’t have any evidence to support either outcome. And Connie had been unable to see if Wyoming’s chest had been moving up in down from the distance she stood at for such a short behind of time.

“He’s been in there for what?”

“Over twenty minutes now.” South frowned.

“I guess it depends what fucking gas got loose and how strong it is.” South thrust her hands down and then scowled at the pocket-less leggings. She crossed her arms over her chest instead, rocking back and forth on her heels. “Fuck, I hate this part.”

Connie nodded her agreement. The worst part about any emergency was the eventual lull where none of them could do anything but wait. Wait for the more trained officials to arrive on scene, wait for the update on the victim’s status, wait for another task to be given to them, wait to be relieved from the pool; so much waiting. If it had been a drowning victim, at least they could check the victim’s vitals if the CPR had succeeded and fill out their accident reports.

But they had left the paperwork in the building, and Carolina wouldn’t let them back in now. And they could do nothing further to help Wyoming, for the first rule of a potential gas victim was _never_ enter the room they were in.

Otherwise there wouldn’t just be one victim who needed saving.

Of course, waiting also meant Connie had time to think about the entire situation and puzzle over how it had occurred in the first place. For there had been no reason for Wyoming to enter the boiler room as far as she was aware. None of the lifeguards reported a pool fouling or any suspicious people in the back, and with its constantly freezing temperatures, none of the guards would go to the boiler room just for a stroll.

So why–

Medical personnel rolled into the parking lot, and Carolina waved over the other guards as she approached the new vehicles. Connie jogged over with South, gaze going through the crowd and falling on the grey shirt of the Counsellor as he spoke with a patron.

“Hey, South?” Connie asked a few seconds before they reached Carolina. “Do you know which BAs worked this week?”

“Pretty sure it was the Counsellor and Jon-Jon all week. Why?”

Connie shrugged and Carolina’s voice distracted South from wanting an answer.

That was the only thing Connie needed to hear.

*******

When Connie quit the day after the gas leak, she didn’t do it the way Wash expected her to.

Wash had expected an explosion when the day finally came. He expected a raised voice, words and bitterness kept bottled up or thrown at friends finally directed at their target. Connie may have kept quieter than South, seemed softer than Tex, more open than Carolina, but Wash had seen Connie in the moments when she let her anger free. In that moment, she was just as capable as any of the others at ripping one apart verbally and physically.

It didn’t happen like that.

Instead, Connie walked into the Director’s office and walked back out without a single sound escaping from the office during that time gap. She walked back into the guard room as the others waited for the in-service to start, announced she was quitting, and then ploughed through their shocked silence to the door.

Tex and Carolina stopped her at the door, moving in tandem as if they’d fighting alongside each other instead of against each other all that time. Florida took one look at the three girls and sudden rigidness of all their postures, and excused himself from the room. The others followed suit, saying how they should get started on a warm-up, but Wash remained sitting.

It didn’t matter what any of them did, he realized after five seconds, for the women didn’t pay any of them any attention. Watching them, Wash saw the defiance and brittle anger he’d been expecting to form in Connie slowly cross her face. It didn’t just show, it consumed her, and Wash couldn’t look away. Her voice rose and fell in cadence with the managers’, and Wash couldn’t block it out, as if listening to a piece of music that was resonating with him for the first time.

And suddenly he felt as if he had just been jolted from a dream about falling. For he realized, he didn’t know Connie as well as he thought he did. None of them at the pool did, and he had known that. Had known that Connie had slowly been withdrawing herself from those at the pool for weeks as if preparing for that time when she wouldn’t be working with them.

But Wash had been her best friend for three years and so he had–arrogantly, naively–thought he was different. Thought he could not be surprised anymore, that he could see her pattern of decisions as clearly as tangible words looping through the air between them.

Yet in that moment, he realized he had underestimated her. He had always thought her strong, stubborn in her beliefs, but he had never put it on ground with Carolina or Tex’s strength of personality. Those two were lightning and thunder, wildfires and landslides, blinding and obviousin their ability to destroy anything that stopped them. Connie, in contrast, was the magma sleeping beneath the earth, and Wash had forgotten during its slow inactivity, just how much power it had when stirred.

For a moment, Connie glanced away from Tex and Carolina, and spotted Wash where he sat. The scowl faded for just a second, and he caught a glimpse of regret in her face. As if the sea had only wanted to encase the lands in its protection, pour its love into the parched soil, and had forgotten for an irrevocable moment the broken turmoil that would be left in its wake.

Then she turned back to Tex, and the hesitation vanished when she opened her mouth again. Wash found it hard to look at her, his friend who he know to be so much _more_ than him, more than any of them gave her credit for. He could see Carolina trying to understand, but being simply confused and frustrated with whatever Connie said. Tex just kept frowning, jagged words spilling from her own bloody lips.

And Wash could not speak, for the oxygen would only be consumed by their words. What little might have been left for him would only gag him, burn his insides and refuse to let untangled words leave his mouth.

For the first time in three years, he found himself speechless in his friend’s presence and for a moment, he felt like a small child left alone and lost at a supermarket.

The conversation ended, Connie just shaking her head at them as she backed out of the room. They watched her go and none of them could find any more words to say.

Connie left and Wash half expected the glass in the door window to shatter at her exit.

She would have just kept walking, barefoot or crawling if she had to, and not spared a single glance for the blood dripping down everyone’s skin.   

Not even for her own skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RCMP-Royal Canadian Mounted Police; the federal police force of Canada and has a contract for three of the provinces to act at a provincial level for them. Cadet training takes place in Regina, Saskatchewan which is two provinces over from Ontario where this fic takes place.
> 
> I will be forever upset about Connie's death, and forever bitter that we didn't get to see Wash's reaction to either her leaving or her death. Also, Wyoming is not the minor character death, you'll see next chapter that he is alive and okay. The next chapter is all written out, so it shouldn't be as late this time. 
> 
> Thank you so much to my betas and to everyone for reading!!
> 
> (And I hope everyone enjoyed the start of season 13!)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want a stupid shisno.”

The last day of lessons for the session saw a complete reversal in roles from the first day. North told Theta from the start that he would be the boy’s teacher next session, and the child grinned like he’d just received a puppy. But even with that knowledge, Theta still remained reluctant to get out of the pool when the lesson came to an end, clinging to North’s hand when they climbed out onto the deck.

“Theta, remember what I told you?” North asked when the boy drew to a halt a few feet away from where Vanessa sat on the benches. Theta nodded. “Do you think I would lie to you?”

“No,” Theta said, voice sure despite the way his grip tightened around North’s hand.

“Do you think Ms. Kimball would lie to you?”

“No.” His answer didn’t come as immediately, but he still sounded confident.

“Okay. Then I’ll see you next week.”

Theta nodded, and let himself loosen a little. He still held onto North as they made their way over to the smiling Vanessa, and North handed Theta his report card. Theta listened carefully as North explained what he had improved and what they would work on next time, handing the report card to Vanessa for safe keeping.

“Well, Theta?” Vanessa asked. “Don’t you have something for North?”

Theta nodded again, shyness returning as Vanessa helped him retrieve items from his backpack. North was quiet in his surprise, kneeling down to reach eye-level with Theta.

“I made it,” Theta said, and he held out a brightly coloured card to North.

There was pride in his voice, but anxiety over whether North would like it also made it quiet. North opened it up and studied the pictures of the pool and their lessons together drawn with purple and blue crayon.

“I love it, Theta,” North replied with a smile, and Theta grinned. If South could see them now, North knew she would be rolling her eyes at the sappiness engulfing his upturned lips.

“Also, Ms. Kimball helped us make these,” Theta explained as Vanessa withdrew some plastic baggies from her own purse.

Theta took one and gave it to North. It appeared to be a chocolate chip cookie, decorated with dark purple icing and dotted with green sprinkles. The cookie itself nearly took up the whole bag, as wide as North’s palm.

“Um, I made one for South too,” Theta said, and North looked up from the examination of his cookie with a blink. Theta held out another plastic baggie, the cookie inside smothered with a lighter purple icing and green sprinkles.

“Wow, Theta.” North stopped, unsure what to say.

The kid had met South during one of the Sunday rec swims they’d both worked awhile back. He had asked awed questions about the tattoos curling all over her body, and she had indulged him for a few minutes before shooing him from the guardroom. But North hadn’t thought Theta would remember her well enough to make a cookie, and what he had told South about his family life had been a contentious issue between the twins the past week. The gas leak and North’s concerned call over it–call _s_ because South hadn’t picked up her god damn phone until the fourth time–hadn’t made communicating about anything easier that week.

“That was really thoughtful of you,” North told him, and Theta grinned. “I’m sure she’ll love it. I’ll give it to her as soon as I see her, okay?”

“Okay!”

With North’s acceptance of Theta’s gifts, all of the boy’s faith in North’s words and promise of a happy ending seemed to come rushing back. North left him to go prepare for his next lesson, and when he turned back, Theta sat beside Vanessa on the bench, gesturing and smiling as he told her all about his lesson with North.

***

“Why does Theta look so happy?” Delta asked once they had stopped in the deep end after his first few laps of back crawl. He stared at the younger boy where he grinned at North and eagerly gestured about something.

“I guess he heard the news.”

Delta turned to York who offered the boy a grin.

“News?”

He didn’t sound excited, staring at York with wide eyes and pulling himself a little closer to the wall.

“Relax, D. It’s good news. You guys are all getting the same teacher for next session of swimming lessons.”

Delta blinked at him, glancing over at Theta once more and then looking back at York.

“Really?”

“Yup. Our boss cleared it this morning.”

“Oh. That’s good. Theta was really sad last week but that will make him really happy.”

“Nothing about how happy you are to have me again?” York teased him. “Harsh, D. You really cut me deep.”

“I’m happy too!” Delta protested, practically shouting the words. He looked down at the surface of the water when his cheeks grew red as York struggled not to gape.

“Hey, it’s alright, Delta.” York hesitated, but didn’t try to move any closer. “You’re really protective of Theta, huh.”

“Ms. Kimball says we have to look out for him since we’re older,” Delta said, still not looking at York. “I’m older than him and Gamma, so I should make sure they’re okay. And Sigma and Omega are older than all of us, so they should make sure we’re okay. But Omega’s always making fun of Theta and getting mad at the rest of us, and Sigma comes up with the best games but he likes reading more than playing. I’ve been trying to teach Theta and Gamma different board games, but Theta always says Gamma cheats.”

York opened his mouth, but Delta cut him off before he could get a word out. “Can we do front crawl now?”

They spent the rest of the lesson with few other distractions, Delta focusing even more on his swimming than he normally did. He still wanted to try for the whistle though, and when he still couldn’t get it, York just assured him they could practice more next session. York waited for North and Theta to finish speaking by the benches, and then had Delta climb out of the pool.

York waited until Delta had his towel wrapped around him before handing him the report card. Theta looked over curiously, but Vanessa placed a hand on his arm and her whisper had him sitting back down.

York leaned down to explain what Delta had improved and what they would work on next session, Delta reading over York’s comments with singular focus.

“Wait,” Delta said when York finished, and made to move off with a smile. The boy skidded back to Vanessa and Theta, the younger boy holding out a baggie to him.

Delta passed it over to York, and his eyes widened at the sight of the light brown icing forming geometric shapes across the surface of the chocolate chip cookie.

“Ms. Kimball helped bake them,” Delta explained. “And then we all got to decorate our own for our teachers. I hope it’s okay.”

“It looks great, Delta.”

“Thank you for teaching me, York.” He took a step closer, tugging at York’s arm in such a childish gesture for him to lean closer that York couldn’t help grinning as he bent down. “Aunty keeps telling me I should share my feelings more but I’m not very good at it. I’m sorry for yelling.”

Delta glanced back at Vanessa, but the woman had strategically pulled out a book to show Theta to give the two privacy. York doubted she could have discerned Delta’s low whisper anyways.

“I’m really happy I’m teaching you again,” York told Delta. “You were definitely my best student this session.”

“That’s what _every_ teacher says,” he pointed out, but he smiled at York all the same.

Then he moved back over to Theta and Vanessa, Theta launching into a hundred excited questions the moment he sat down. York watched them for a few seconds, Vanessa offering him a smile when she met his gaze, and then he headed over to his next lesson.

***

“Are you gonna teach me the trick now?”

Tex paused mid-sentence, one arm above her head to demonstrate to Omega the proper positioning of his arms during the stroke. She slowly lowered her arm and stared at him as he did his best not to fidget. Over the weeks, he had ceased interrupting her so frequently, careful to at least wait until she finished speaking to offer any derisive comments he might have. She wasn’t sure which she should be more surprised by; the easy quiet that had pervaded their lesson that day, or the way he’d blurted out his question.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Tex said, placing her hands on her hips. “What trick?”

“Y’know, the cool flip off the diving board.” The boy hadn’t brought up the trick in a while, and he refused to look away from Tex when he continued speaking. “You said you’d teach me it.”

“I said I’d teach you it once your dives were perfect and we had gotten through all our swimming items.”

“But that doesn’t matter if you’re not here next week!”

Tex blinked and Omega glared at her in turn.

“Why won’t I be here next week?”

“Don’t treat me like I’m a stupid baby like Theta,” Omega snarled. “You know what I mean. You won’t be my teacher so how am I gonna learn that trick?”

“Who said I won’t be your teacher next week?”

“Cuz the session’s over, dumbass.”

“Language,” Tex warned. Omega glowered at her but bit down on his lip to prevent whatever swear word he was going to use next. “And just because the session’s over doesn’t mean you’ll get a new teacher. I’ll be your teacher again next session.”

“You’re lying,” Omega said, folding his arms across his chest.

But he glanced over at the benches to where his babysitter and some of the other privates sat. Tex hadn’t seen Omega emerge from the change room until it was time for their lesson, and she assumed that was why North’s excited private hadn’t been able to tell the teenager about the good news.

“Go ask your babysitter if you want,” Tex told him. “She’ll tell you the same thing.”

Tex had known earlier than North that they would all be getting the same privates as last session. The Director had called her into his office to tell her of his decision, even before Vanessa Kimball had gone to him to request all her charges get the same teacher. Tex couldn’t determine the motive behind it, but she didn’t argue with him. Instead she simply said it would probably be for the best given the trouble Omega’s attitude might give any new teacher.

 Omega turned back to her.

“I’m not lying, kiddo,” Tex said, and Omega stared at her for a long time before slowly nodding.

“Okay. But you should still teach me that trick now since it’s the last day.”

“Last day of the _session_ , not last day of our lessons. And your dives still need plenty of work before I teach you something harder.”

The scowl returned to his face, and Tex hid her smile as she returned to the instructions he had interrupted.

But after the lesson, he gave her a cookie decorated with black icing all the same.

***

“I don’t want a stupid shisno.”

“What?” Wyoming looked over at Gamma as he sat beside him on the pool deck. They sat on the side of the deck in the deep end, preparing to get started on their dives. Wyoming had been released from the hospital Friday evening, most of the effects of the gas gone except for a slight headache and occasional queasy stomach. While the doctors had stressed he should avoid any strenuous activity for awhile, Wyoming figured teaching lessons wouldn't be too difficult. Plus, it seemed unfair to rob Gamma of his usual teacher on the last day of the session when it could be avoided.

Gamma swung his legs back and forth in the water, heels kicking against the wall without a single hint of pain entering the boy’s expression.

“I don’t want a stupid shisno for a teacher,” Gamma said, louder this time.

He glared out at the other lifeguards and students in the pool, even Maine despite the child’s seemingly close bond with Sigma.

“And what is a shisno?”

“Stupid,” Gamma muttered. “Stupid and bad and annoying and loud and gross.”

“I see. Well, as long as you don’t think I’m a shisno, you don’t have to worry about that.”

Gamma finally met his gaze, and Wyoming saw pleasant surprise in the boy’s expression for the first time since he’d started teaching his lessons.

“Ms. Kimball wasn’t lying?”

“She doesn’t seem the type, don’t you think?”

“Everyone lies,” Gamma said. “Especially shisnos.”

“Knock knock.”

Gamma instantly straightened, reply instinctive.

“Who’s there?”

“CU.”

“CU who?”

“See you next session, my dear boy.”

Admittedly, it wasn’t one of his finest, and he would never repeat it in front of the other lifeguards. Especially not Florida, the man had standards. But his purpose in that moment was reassurance of the truth, and the scowl faded from Gamma’s face by the end of the joke. The boy stopped muttering angrily and performed his best dive once Wyoming turned their attention back to the pool.

At the end of the lesson, Wyoming handed Gamma his report card and went over all he had written down with the boy. Gamma impatiently shoved it at Vanessa and then searched through his backpack to procure a slightly misshapen cookie for Wyoming. He had written “not a shisno” on it with white icing and jutted out his chin proudly when Wyoming examined it.

“Why thank you, Gamma. It looks delicious.”

They heard the sound of Sigma’s voice getting closer and Wyoming caught a sight of the three other boys returning from the change room.

“Hey hey.” Wyoming turned back to Gamma who tried to push him a little further away from the benches. He allowed Gamma to move him a few steps as Sigma and Maine converged on the benches. “Is Wyoming your _real_ name? Because Sigma said it was but I should ask because he’s not always right.”

“Well everyone at the pool calls me that, but it’s actually Reginald.”

Gamma repeated the name with furrowed brows and a scrunched up face.

“You should have a nickname,” Gamma declared. “Like Reggie. That way you won’t sound like a shisno. Okay?”

“Alright,” Wyoming agreed, not bothering to tell him some of the guards liked to use it when they were being particularly needling. It seemed to make the boy happy, and Wyoming offered another word of gratitude for the cookie before retreating to the guard room.

***

“Hey, Maine? You’re actually pretty smart, aren’t you?”

 _My professors seem to think so_.

Sigma nodded as they walked toward the benches after the swimming lesson. For once, the teenager had barely offered any excuses at the start of the lesson or during it. He glanced over at Gamma on occasion, and the other children on the benches, but listened closely to most of Maine’s instructions. He had welcomed the news about having Maine as his teacher again next session with a nod and small smile. When Maine had simply signed,

 _You’re all pretty similar_ , in response to Sigma’s question about how he felt, the teenager had simply laughed. It was the first time Maine had heard the sound, and he got the feeling the boy had already reached the point in his life where he found the action to be more fitting of children and frivolous people.

“Omega was trying to tell us that his teacher was the smartest,” Sigma told Maine. “I don’t think he was just doing it to piss Theta off this time, I think he actually kinda likes Tex. I mean, it did cuz Theta really likes North, so he got upset, and then Gamma said that Wyoming tells the best knock-knock jokes and isn’t a shisno like the rest of the teachers so obviously _he’s_ the best, and Delta said York isn’t the smartest but he’s still a really good teacher so we shouldn’t just look at that–”

_How is this relevant?_

“Well _I_ said there’s no way to actually prove it unless we had test scores or something and then Omega said I was just saying that because you were really dumb, but just because you can’t speak doesn’t mean you’re dumb.”

_Obviously._

Sigma just nodded again as they reached the benches. Gamma had gone off with Wyoming, and the other three boys normally with Sigma’s babysitter were nowhere in sight. Maine handed Sigma his report card and didn’t bother signing anything about it, as the teenager could just read the comments himself. When Sigma handed him a cookie emblazoned with white icing, Maine asked,

_So why tell me all that stuff from before?_

“I don’t know,” Sigma admitted. “I guess I was just mad, which is usually Omega’s job.”

Maine stared a little at that. The kid hadn’t seemed mad when he had been telling Maine the story, voice only tightening a little when he reported what he had said. Then again, North rarely acted as explicitly angry as his twin, but that didn’t mean he never got mad, as living with the two twins in the past week had exemplified. And Wash kept all of his more severe personal stress locked away, shielded by complaints about life’s smaller annoyances or a tired smile. If Sigma happened to be the kind that kept most of his more explosive emotions locked away, Maine didn’t mind providing an outlet once and awhile.

_Well don’t worry too much about what he said. We both know he’s wrong._

“That’s true,” Sigma said with a smile.  “Thank you, Maine.”

***

At the end of Junior’s last lesson of the session, Tucker waited patiently with Junior as York handed out the report cards to all the parents and kids. Tucker knew at least half of them would be repeating, uncomfortable doing their floats even with York’s assistance and therefore would only flail about in the next level when they were supposed to do it on their own.

“Hey, Junior,” York greeted him with a smile when he finally reached them. Junior moved a little closer to Tucker, but he gave York a shy smile in return and took a step closer to examine the card when he offered it. “You were getting a lot better by the end of it. So next time you do this level, I want you to try and do your rocket ship all by yourself, okay?”

Junior nodded, giving the card to Tucker when he had finished studying all the tiny checkmarks.

“So again?” Tucker asked, and York nodded.

“Yeah. If he can do the stuff without you next session, then I’d say he’d be ready for Salamander by the end of it.”

“Hear that, Junior?”

Junior glanced up from where he had been searching through Tucker’s backpack for a snack. Tucker turned back to York. “I’ll work on it.”

“Don’t worry too much about it. Some kids just take longer to like swimming lessons, and some always hate them.”

“How reassuring.”

York laughed.

“I just don’t want either of you to feel bad about it. Have a good day, Tucker.”

Tucker watched him go and then took a seat on the bench beside Junior as he munched happily on the cookies he had finally found. Tucker looked over to where Wash was halfway through teaching a lesson and then glanced up at the clock. There were two minutes until York’s lesson had to start since he got the class out early for report cards, and Tucker hoped the same thing would happen at the end of Wash’s next lesson. It would be easier than waiting for Wash’s next break and Tucker figured he might as well talk to him now while he was there. The lifeguard hadn’t been in the café Thursday night and since the pool had still been closed Friday morning because of the gas leak, Tucker hadn’t seen him then to talk about what Kai said.

Thursday morning he could have, but Church dragged him off before he got the chance, in an even grumpier, sleep-deprived mood than normal.

When Junior finished the cookie, Tucker helped pull out the action figures he had packed for the kid. Spreading his towel out on the bench, Junior lay on his stomach and began to play while Tucker watched the pool.

Tucker got lucky, for Wash headed into the guardroom with two minutes to spare after handing out report cards. Tucker gave Junior a quick request to stay where he was and then knocked on the glass door.

Both Wash and the other guard inside gave him a surprised look, but Wash hurried over to open it.

“Tucker?”

“Hey sorry, I know you’re working but can I talk to you really quickly before your next lesson?”

“Uh.” Wash glanced at the clock and then stepped outside. “You’ve got a minute.”

“Okay cool, I’ll be quick. Look, so I know you talked to Kai about motivating Grif.” Wash opened his mouth as if to explain, and Tucker shook his head. “No dude, just listen, you said one minute. I know you’re planning on trying to get us to be one team, you’re really not as sneaky as you think, but it’s whatever. I wouldn’t really mind if it means we get to play Felix again and kick his ass, and you should probably actually tell everyone about that before you just place us in a league.

Uh but anyways, that’s not the point. The point is you kinda made Kai upset because you started going on about motivating Grif and the rest of us, but you haven’t really tried to motivate her. I figured maybe you were trying to motivate both of them at the same time, and I know Kai is really tough, but that’s not how she felt and she still wants to be a part of the team and you made her feel like she wasn’t. So yeah.”

Wash blinked and Tucker glanced at the clock. Their minute was up, but Wash didn’t move toward the pool.

“I–” He stopped. “I didn’t realize she would see it that way. I didn’t mean to make her feel less important than the others.”

“Yeah, I figured and that’s what I told her but I wanted to let you know that it wasn’t cool.”

He frowned.

“So should I apologize or–”

“Nah, I mean, if you do something like that again sure but at this rate, she’ll just get pissed at both of us for talking about it. But maybe talk to her? Like let her know how she’s doing and shit during or after the practice like you do with me and Caboose.”

“She didn’t seem like she wanted me to talk to her.” Wash glanced at the time and swore under his breath. “But okay. Thanks, Tucker.”

Tucker shrugged.

“Yeah well, we need her.”

Wash smiled and then rushed off to his lesson. Tucker grinned at the herd of the small children that surrounded him when he called out the lesson level, before he turned back to Junior.

“Was that your coach, daddy?” Junior asked as they began to pack up their stuff.

“That’s right, that was Wash.”

Tucker was learning little bits about Wash with each practice and each visit Wash paid to the café. He came in on Mondays now as well, rolling his eyes at Tucker’s comments but still speaking with him and teasing him. Now Tucker knew that Wash couldn’t cook to save his life and liked being healthy, but had a sweet tooth to rival Junior’s. Now Tucker knew that Wash was in kinesiology part-time this year, and wanted to become a physiotherapist. He knew Wash hated the snow and cold, even though he loved hockey as much as comics. He knew Wash had lived on his own with his cats since second year, despite how close he was with some of the other lifeguards and people in his program.

With each new piece of personal information Wash gave away, Tucker could feel any residue irritation and resentment being blown away and the grudging respect and curiosity appearing in its place, like snow being gusted away in a winter’s wind to reveal the road pavement beneath. Wash’s laughter, the dry tone of his teasing, his unapologetic love for what Tucker considered extremely dorky, combined with his ability to best any of the Blues in a physical match, slowly chipped away at the pavement and shed light on silver veins of affection running in intricate patterns beneath the surface.

So when Church barged into Tucker’s room at six pm that night after he had dropped Junior off at a friend’s sleepover, and told Tucker to fucking get dressed up because they were going with Tex to a staff party, Tucker couldn’t help but grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for Wyoming's knock-knock joke goes to my beta because I cannot come up with jokes to save my life. Wyoming decided to take a page out of York's book; severe injury? Just got out of the hospital? Nahhh, he's fiiiine to go swimming right away. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Next week's chapter about the staff party is...pretty long at this point but it reads better as just one chapter so I am just going to post it in one chapter despite the length.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of alcohol consumption/mention in this chapter. 
> 
> Also, for anyone who has never played King's Cup before, there's 2 cards that are actually brought up in this chapter: Waterfall refers to getting an ace which means everyone has to drink for as long as the person who picked up the card. Getting a king means you drink a quarter of the king's cup which is mixed before the game begins with a variety of different alcoholic beverages.
> 
> Thank you to random_inspired for betaing the shit out of this.

When Church first told Tucker about the party and he hopped on the city bus with his roommate and Tex, he expected them to get off in a well-known student residence area or at an apartment building.

He hadn’t expected to get off in what appeared to be a quiet residential area filled with middle-class houses that possessed spacious backyards and well-kept flowerbeds in their front yards. The house they approached sat at the end of the street, and Tex didn’t bother knocking. She simply pushed open the door and stepped inside.  

The living room sprawled in front of them when they entered, a wide-screen TV resting against the wall with leather couches forming an L-shape around the TV. Sofa bed mattresses had been shoved into the corners of the room, and a garbage can stood beside each of them. A wooden coffee table that looked sturdy enough to survive a night of student drinking and large enough to fit ten people around it had been placed between the TV and couches.

When Tucker looked past the room, he found himself staring at a set of glass doors. With the outside lights on, he easily made out the concrete patio and uncovered pool beyond the doors.

“Jesus Christ, who the fuck are these guys?” Tucker muttered to Church, who seemed to be experiencing a similar feeling as he looked around the room.

“Yo,” Tex called out, ignoring both of them.

To their left they could see a staircase leading upstairs, and beside the stairwell, a doorway that offered a glimpse of a kitchen counter. Through that doorway, Tucker could hear voices and the screech of a chair being dragged across the floor.

A man with pale blond hair and even paler skin materialized in the kitchen doorway and headed over to them.

“Hey, you made it,” he said to Tex with a wide smile, and Tucker saw Church stiffen a little at his side. She offered a small smile in return, and the man turned his attention to Church and Tucker.

“I’m North,” he introduced himself, and offered a hand to shake. “You guys must be Church and Tucker. We’ve been trying to get Tex to come to one of these for ages, and we’ve heard a lot about you.”

“It’s all lies,” Tucker replied, before the others could get a word in. “Whatever Tex and Wash told you. Unless it’s about how fucking amazing I am, then it’s a hundred percent true.”

“Hey, is that the pizza?” A girl’s shout interrupted North’s reply.

“More people. Come say hi.”

“If they don’t have pizza then I don’t give a fuck who they are.”

“Glad to see your manners are as shitty here as they are at the pool,” Tex shouted back, and a woman’s head swung into view as she peered around the doorway. Pale hair with purple tips fell into her face, and she pushed it back as she studied the group in the living room.

“Would you look at that? The bitch actually showed up for once.” She disappeared again into the kitchen, and a low murmur of voices filled the kitchen once more before a familiar person exited the kitchen.

Wash offered Tex and Church smiles, but he stopped moving when he caught sight of Tucker.

“Tucker?” he asked, and Tucker offered him a grin.

“So I guess you _do_ know how to have fun,” Tucker said as Wash moved closer to their group. “Unless you guys just spend the whole night talking shit about politics or the 80s or something.”

North laughed behind him and Wash shared a smirk with him.

“Don’t worry, South would probably start pushing us all in the pool if that happened,” North said. “We’ve got a good stash of booze, if that’s more to your taste.”

Tex held up the plastic bag they’d brought with them, bottles clinking inside. She headed off to put it in the fridge, Church trailing after her while Tucker remained where he stood.

“Yeah, that reminds me–you guys have a fucking _pool_? Are you sure your students? Or are we taking over one of your parents’ places for the night?”

Wash grinned at that and gestured toward North.

“Well, North? Why don’t you tell him how you guys all ended up here?”

“You just like that story because of how unnerved I was.”

“It’s a hilarious mental image. South agrees with me.”

Tucker looked back and forth between the two, caught off-guard by how easily Wash bantered and smiled. Even if he had loosened up around the team and during his visits to the café, there was still a residue guardedness about him that vanished in the presence of the lifeguards.

North shook his head, but turned back to Tucker and began to explain.

“Right, well this place was actually Maine’s parents. They died when he was really little and his uncle came and looked after him since everything was already paid off. When Maine entered university, his uncle decided to leave the place to Maine and move into his girlfriend’s bigger house.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Nope,” Wash said, and North continued.

“Well anyways, at the end of first year, both me and South–my twin sister–were having trouble finding places. We were both going to room with our friends but her girlfriend cheated on her with the other girl they were going to room with, and my friends agreed to sign the lease on a place I had told them was outside my price range.”

Tucker gaped and wondered if he was in fact dreaming about some weird soap opera and would wake up only to find it was still Saturday morning.

“So I was on the phone with her on campus arguing about it because she didn’t want to go home for the summer even though neither of us had a job or a place to stay, and that’s when Maine comes up to me. I dunno if you’ve seen him yet–he’s in the shower right now–but he’s huge and I had only seen him in my classes and said the odd hello a couple times. But out of nowhere, he taps me on the shoulder and I turn around and he’s standing right behind me.”

Wash’s grin kept growing and Tucker got the feeling he had laughed at the story many times before.

“Again, never spoken more than five words together. So South is yelling at me on the phone while I’m saying hi and asking if he needs something, and Maine just holds out his notebook where he’s written, _you need a place to stay?_ ”

“I repeat, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Well I’m asking if he needs roommates too, which he definitely doesn’t since the mortgage is all paid for and he’s really good at conserving electricity and everything, and his relatives still make sure he’s doing alright. But he just writes back, _I have class right now so give me your cell number and I’ll text you about it._ I’m still really confused–”

“And terrified,” Wash added. “Maine was very clear on how scared you looked. He thought that you thought he was going to beat you up in a back alley and steal all your money.”

“In my defense, I had barely spoken to him all year. But I gave him my number and that night he texted me his address and when we could come check it out. Which is also when we met Wash and how we got to working at the pool since Maine already worked there.”

Tucker blinked a little at the neat wrap up of the story, having expected something more chaotic to be waiting at the end of the tale. But North fell quiet and Wash seemed to be waiting for Tucker’s response.

“And then you all lived happily ever after?” Tucker suggested, and North laughed.

“In terms of housing, I guess so.” 

“Dude, it’s a hundred times better than Church and my apartment.” 

He launched into a horror story about the first apartment Church and him had lived in during second year; a cramped place where the toilet always clogged, the hot water never worked, and wasps took up residence beneath their kitchen sink.

In the kitchen, Church had set up camp at the table, watching the two girls at the counter. He remained on the edge of his seat, ready to flee the second the inevitable explosion happened. But so far South hadn’t tried to dump alcohol on Tex, and Tex hadn’t threatened her.

Instead they stood with a variety of alcoholic bottles, mixes, and plastic cups scattered across the surface of the counter. South crossed her arms over her chest as she watched Tex mix, and often grabbed the mix Tex had been reaching for with a derisive dismissal.

“I know what I’m doing, South.” Tex glared at the girl but didn’t try to snap her wrist. “It tastes fine.”

“Sure, if you like the taste of piss.”

“It’s not that bad,” Church offered, in no hurry to see what it looked like when the two snapped at each other. The stories were scary enough, and having one of them pissed off would no doubt make the rest of the night a miserable experience for everyone.

“Do you want ‘not that bad’ or fucking amazing?” South demanded. She disappeared down the stairwell leading from the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a basket filled with pop and juice containers.

“Do you guys have an entire fucking store down there?” Church asked as South spread everything across the counter.

She spared him a glance, and he fought the instinct to shrink back in his seat. Her twin’s body language had oozed friendliness intended to make everyone in the room at ease, whereas hers gleefully worked to destroy that comfort as quickly as possible.

“North only buys in bulk,” she finally said, and turned back to the counter. “Wants to be prepared for the nuclear apocalypse or some shit.”

“Nothing to do with how much the three of you drink and eat?” Tex asked with a dry tone as she watched South pour.

“Oi, North,” South yelled toward the living room in response. “Is the fucking pizza here yet?”

“No.”

“Jesus Christ,” South muttered.

“I told you to eat lunch,” her twin called back. “Eat a granola bar if you’re hungry now.”

“Thanks, _mom_.”

“That looks disgusting,” Tex said before the twins could get into a shouting match.

Church finally got to his feet so he could examine the drink. The brown shade of the liquid sloshing in the cup did nothing for his appetite, but South shoved it at Tex.

“No fucking judgements until you’ve actually tasted the damn thing.”

“What, none for him?” Tex asked, using the cup to gesture at Church.

“I’m not a fucking idiot–like your boyfriend is going to say anything against you right now.”

“ _Hey_.”

“Or maybe he’d disagree just to spite you. Either way, he’s not the one who insulted me.”

The sudden appearance of another man from the living room cut off Tex’s verbal response, and South offered the man the closest thing to a grin Church had seen on her all evening. “Come to test out the selection early, Maine?”

Maine towered above all of them, the intensity of his stare and the hulking physicality of his body taking up more space than all of them combined. He didn’t even glance at Tex or Church, just grabbed the cup out of Tex’s hand and took a gulp in response. They all watched as he lowered the cup and considered the taste filling his mouth. Then he handed the cup back to Tex and signed something.

“Oh please, everything that isn’t beer is too sweet for you.” South shook her head. “I have no idea how you’re such good friends with the resident sweet-tooth.”

Tex took a sip herself as Maine’s gaze turned to Church. He studied the smaller man, and Church offered a greeting that nearly lacked all forms of sarcasm he normally interjected into his tone. Tex had told him about all the lifeguards he had yet to meet, and while she emphasized Maine’s size, Church thought she might have been exaggerating.

She had not been exaggerating. The man’s biceps really did look as big as Church’s head.

A sudden, long sigh dragged everyone’s gazes back to Tex. She closed her eyes and then opened them again to stare at the ceiling.

“South is right, Maine,” Tex said. “This is not too sweet.”

South gave her a startled look, but then a slow smirk spread across her face. Maine left without protestation when South shooed him from the room, and then the two girls turned their attention back to the drinks. Church sidled up next to Tex and watched, taking the drink she offered him without hesitation.

“You remember what I said, right?” Tex asked.

“You said a lot of things.” When she didn’t say anything more, just shot him a look and then returned to her work, he gave in. “About alcohol specifically?”

“Why the fuck would you give him any warnings?”

“It’s about Wash.” She didn’t look at either of them when she replied, but understanding flooded both of their expressions.

“Under no circumstances am I to go up against him in terms of drinking.”

“Because?”

“You’re not going to carry my wasted ass back home.”

Tex smiled and South made a disgusted noise beside her. She disappeared when the doorbell rang and Tex finally looked up at Church.

“Did you warn Tucker?”

Church didn’t try to hide his smirk.

“Where would the fun be in that?”

***

Another man exited the kitchen in the middle of another of Tucker’s stories, a story that had both listeners giving him incredulous looks.

“There is no way that actually happened,” Wash cut in.

“We’ve done some pretty ridiculous things,” North added. “But never to that extent.”

“It’s totally true. Just ask Church if you don’t believe me.”

They all turned toward the kitchen, which is how they spotted the massive man leaving it. Tucker felt his jaw drop slightly as Wash’s expression brightened. He waved the other man over, who seemed torn between retreating back upstairs and joining them. When he did join them, the man loomed above Tucker.

“Tucker, this is Maine,” Wash introduced them. “Maine, Tucker.”

“Uh, hey,” Tucker greeted him, and glanced at North. “This is your place, right?”

Maine nodded, and then held up a hand. He walked over to the coffee table, grabbed a notebook that lay there, and then returned. He flipped through the pages and then held one up.

 _Wash told me about you_ , it read, and Tucker’s gaze darted from the words to Maine’s neutral facial expression.

“Uh,” Tucker said, hyper-aware of the possibility of saying something wrong and being thrown in the pool by all of them. “Do you always use a notepad like that?”

Maine flipped a couple pages.

_Do you know sign language?_

“No?”

_Then notepad. Wash gets tired of always being the translator._

“He’s the best at reading sign language,” North explained when Tucker looked at them, at the same time that Wash protested Maine’s statement. The man just signed something in return and Tucker wondered at how long the two had known each other.

“So how do you have all of this already written down?” Tucker asked.

_Trends from first conversations with others. Stuff I guessed you would ask._

Tucker paused, the urge to ask something he wouldn’t have an answer to rising in him. Wash seemed to guess what he was thinking because his eyes narrowed at the same time Tucker opened his mouth.

“So when kids misbehave, how quickly do the lifeguards decide to just send you to scare the shit out of them?”

_Instantly._

Tucker had to resist the urge to take a step back at that and the calm expression on Maine’s face.

South stomped out of the kitchen at that point, calling for her roommates’ attention when she asked where they had put the Ipod dock. At the same time, the doorbell rang, and Tucker followed Wash to go greet the pizza man. A weird mixture of country and rap songs soon filled the air as South found the Ipod dock and plugged in her Ipod.

The other lifeguards began to arrive soon after the pizza. An older man with a cheerful smile was the first, dragging a lean, moustached man inside with him. The two were introduced as Florida and Wyoming, and Florida smiled as he told them he had dragged Wyoming to the party despite the man’s recent chlorine gas poisoning and the potential hazards of alcohol. The others all seemed to accept this with a nod, whereas Tucker stared with a gaping mouth for a few seconds. He closed it when Wash introduced him, and Tucker managed some degree of politeness as Florida gave off the vibe of one who would simply grin while murdering someone.

York was the next to arrive, offering a genuine smile when he saw Tucker and stopping to ask where Junior was for the night.

“I’ll be busing over in the morning to pick him up,” Tucker explained after telling York Junior was at a sleep-over. “He’s been super pumped about it all week so I might even have to drag him out when I finally get him.”

“Bribery?” York suggested, and Tucker grinned.

“It never hurt.”

“Like father like son, huh?” Wash asked.

“I feel like I’m supposed to be insulted, but since it has to do with Junior, there’s absolutely no way for it to be one.”

“Don’t worry, I think at this point we all know to never say anything negative about a child in front of their parent,” York said, and both of the guards winced a little at whatever memory his words brought up. Tucker looked between the two of them.

“Some crazy parents at the pool?” Tucker asked.

“You have no idea,” Wash muttered, and Tucker was definitely looking forward to hearing those stories.

Carolina showed up about half an hour later, when half of the guards were in the kitchen arguing over the slices of pizza and Tucker still stood in the living room with Wash and Maine. The door had been left unlocked, so she walked into the music and loud chatter without announcement. Tucker faced the door, and so he spotted her right away. He watched her take note of everyone in the room and what they were pre-occupied with.

When her gaze fell on him, he excused himself quickly and walked over as she seemed to appraise him.

“So, you’re Carolina,” he said once he reached her. Not a single strand of emotion flickered across her face and she had left her red hair unbound for the night. Tucker could feel Wash staring, but nobody moved toward them.

“So you’re Tucker,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest in a motion that was so similar to Tex, he couldn’t respond for a few seconds.

“Just thought I should let you know there’s a private party happening in my pants and you’re invited. Bow chicka bow wow.”

It took exactly two point zero seconds for Carolina to pinch Tucker’s earlobe and twist it so hard he bent over with a stream of pained noises tumbling from his mouth. The sound of clapping filled the air as Church stepped into the living room.

“Wow, Tucker,” he said, “I think you just set a new record for who can piss Carolina off the quickest.”

“Want to hand me your drink for a second, coz?” Carolina asked without taking her gaze off Tucker.

“Uh, I happen to fucking like this drink, so hell no.”

“You know if don’t have an ear how am I supposed to hear you when– _ow,_ JesusfuckingChrist.”

“One more bad pick up line and I will saw you in half with my finger nail,” Carolina said as Tucker clutched at the ear she twisted. “Got it?”

“Okay okay, just don’t hurt the merchandise.”

“Have a little pity, boss,” Wash said, stepping forward as York watched on in amusement. “He’s got a kid who’d miss him.”

“Hmm.” Carolina stepped back and released Tucker at the same time. He stumbled, and then quickly backed away to Wash’s side. York parted from them to go join Carolina’s side, asking her about her day as they headed into the kitchen to grab a drink.

“You’re really an idiot, you know that, right?” Wash asked. He looked over at Tucker as he rubbed his red ear and winced.

“Worth it.”

Wash rolled his eyes, but Tucker had him laughing again in another moment.

“So what about that Connie chick?” Tucker asked when everyone else remained in the kitchen. “When’s she coming?”

Wash stiffened and the smile vanished from his face before Tucker could even blink. His hand tightened around the cup he had been holding since Tucker arrived.

“She’s not coming,” Wash said, and his tone strove for neutrality, but failed to grasp it fully. “She quit on Friday.”

“Oh sorry, dude.” Tucker frowned at Wash’s unhappy face. “Uh, did you–you know–used to date her?”

“What?” Wash’s mouth parted slightly at that, and then he shook his head. “No, that–Connie and I have only ever been friends.”

“Oh okay. Well I mean, you’ll still get to see her outside the pool and everything, right?”

“Of course, it’s just–” Wash rubbed the back of his head. “When you see the same people practically every day for an entire summer, they kind of become your family. It will be really weird not having her there with the rest of us, and she wasn’t very happy when she quit.”

Tucker didn’t have the chance to say anything more, as the other lifeguards poured from the kitchen with South and Florida declaring it was time for the drinking games.

“Do you fuckers have full drinks?” South asked, pointing at Tucker and Wash.

Wash disappeared to fill his up again as the others slowly took a seat on the leather couches and the floor around the coffee table. Tucker took a seat beside Church on the floor, his roommate having practically glued himself to Tex’s side already. The others all left a space beside Tucker for Wash to occupy when he returned, the lifeguard leaning against the couch where Maine sat.

“479er said she couldn’t come,” Carolina told everyone as they settled. “She has to take care of her cousins tonight. She said everyone can just drink twice as much to make up for her lack of absence.”

“Maybe you can,” Wash said. “But I’m pretty sure York would die if he tried.”

“While it is always heartwarming to see everyone try their best,” Florida added, “How about we try to avoid alcohol poisoning for the night?”

“Have we started doing a counter for how many days since the last incident?” North asked, and York grinned.

“That would have us at two days,” he pointed out.

“But what are we counting as incidents?” Tex asked. “Hospital visits only?”

“How fucking pleasant,” Church muttered.

“Or are we including any kind of fuck up?”

“Maine says then we’d have to define fuck up,” Wash said, mostly for Tucker’s benefit. “And half of us would never admit to having fucked something up. Especially at the pool.”

“At this rate, I believe the counter will be forever stuck at zero,” Wyoming cut in.

“Who fucking _care_ s,” South said loudly before anyone else could continue the discussion. “What we should be discussing is how it’s nine already and not a single one of you fuckers is even close to being past sobriety yet.”

“I guess you’re not including yourself in that category,” Wash teased, and the grin South gave him was terrifying.

“Careful, rookie. You’ve got non-lifeguard friends here now, and they look like they’re very easy to break.”

“Fuck you!” Church and Tucker protested at the same time. She just laughed at them and proceeded to place a beer bottle in the middle of the table. 

“Y’all assholes know the drill. King’s Cup to get us started. Wyoming?”

The man shuffled the cards with ease and then spread them in a circle around the base of the beer bottle.

“Where’s the Cup?” Tucker asked, and South pulled it up from the lower shelf of the coffee table to show him. Then she returned it to its former resting place while Church watched with a narrowed gaze.

“Do we even want to know what’s in there?” Church asked.

“Alcohol,” South and North said at the same time, North with a wry smile and South with a smirk.

“You wanna explain the house rules for the newbies, South?” Tex asked.

She just gestured at her twin, who gave her an amused look before explaining the game’s rules. Tucker and Church were well aware of most versions of the rules, though the addition of “anyone who quits waterfall early has to take a shot of South’s choice” was a new and terrifying addition.

They began the game soon after, red cups in everyone’s hands though half of them were only starting with beer or wine. After North made a rule that anyone who swore had to drink, Tucker wished he had chosen to start with beer, and the middle figure South gave her twin made her opinion on that rule perfectly clear. **  
**

York was the first to be penalized by South’s rule, nobody surprised as he accepted a shot of questionable liquid from South with a grimace. But Tucker pulled the first King, and the smell of the mixture of liquid in the cup alone nearly made him gag.

“It’s best to just go for it,” Wash told him, as Church laughed on Tucker’s other side. “And have a chase ready right away. You can use my beer if you want a slightly less alcoholic chase than your drink.”

“Hey, how come you never took pity on any of us?” York asked.

“When did you ever take pity on me?”

“He has an excellent point,” Carolina said, and Tucker was surprised the woman wasn’t more upset at being chosen as York’s mate given how many times York had to take a drink.

Tucker closed his eyes and then began to drink before he could question his decision. The second the liquid hit his tongue, he felt his mouth start to burn and he nearly choked as he forced himself to keep going until South said he finished a quarter.

Tucker slammed the cup down on the table as he bent over and started coughing.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he gasped when his coughing had finally subsided a little. Both South and Church were laughing now, Wash holding out his beer and laying a warm hand on his back in a gesture of sympathy though an amused smile pulled at his lips. “Did you just pour a jug of chlorine in there and pretend it was booze?”

“Please don’t mention chlorine for a while if you could,” Wyoming said with a wince, and Florida patted the man’s knee.

“I think I’m going blind,” Tucker told them, and then took a swig of Wash’s beer. “And you have horrible taste in beer.”

“Sorry for not wanting to go broke for alcohol.”

“That’s the only thing worth going broke for.”

Carolina rolled her eyes at them, but most of the others were smiling, so Tucker counted it as a victory. Everyone’s attention moved to Church as he picked up the next card and the game continued.

By the end of the game, Tex, York, and Florida were the others who had to drink a quarter of the King’s cup. York was forced to take two more shots, Carolina along with him, and both Church and North also broke the waterfall rule at one point. Everyone besides Wyoming and Florida had broken the no swearing rule by the end, and everyone cursed North for it.

The game took a significantly longer time than Tucker would have predicted, mostly due to the Freelancers’ well-honed ability to dissolve into seemingly irrelevant tangents and arguments at every single card. By the end, everyone had gone through at least three drinks and Tucker began to wonder just how many people it would take to drain the house’s seemingly endless supply of drinkable liquid.

When the game was finally done and Florida had drained the last of the King’s cup, South declared it was time for tequila shots.

“Was that not enough shots?” York demanded, and South sneered at him.

Tucker couldn’t tell if she was closed to buzzed yet or not, for he didn’t know her well enough to determine if her rate of swearing was more abnormal than usual. Tucker figured he was going to encroach on buzzed territory very soon at the rate they were going.

“For _you_. Everyone else here needs to catch up.”

“Oh fuck no,” Church said, and South honed in on him with a grin.

“First person to disagree definitely has to do it.”

Maine signed something to her and stood. “See, Maine’s doing it.”

“That’s because he’s built like a fucking bear–no shot is gonna affect him!”

“Shall we go to the patio and leave the living room for cards then?” Florida suggested, also getting to his feet. South moved around the table, dragging Church up and out of his seat before he even had time to swear. Tucker edged closer to Wash, but South seemed satisfied with just the one victim.

“I’ll come,” Carolina said. “Make sure Church doesn’t go into the pool.”

South headed toward the patio, Carolina, Maine, Florida, and a reluctant Church following behind. All the other lifeguards turned expectantly to Wyoming, and Tucker followed suit. The man looked up at them and offered a small smile as he stopped shuffling the cards.

“Well then, what shall our stakes be?”

***

Church stumbled into the living room from the outside patio, gaze passing over all of the people in the room. He rolled his eyes at Tucker where he spoke with Wash at the coffee table, and then continued to try and spot Tex. When he didn’t see her, he headed toward the kitchen with a half-full cup clutched in his hand. He heard North’s voice before he saw them, halting just past the kitchen doorway.

Tex and North both stood by the counter, hips leaning against it for support. There were small smiles on both of their faces as they chattered away without noticing Church’s sudden presence. He felt something completely separate from the tequila shot he’d just taken sear his throat before it slithered into his chest. The room swayed, and that was probably a sign the tequila was hitting him much earlier than he wanted.

Instead of stopping to take stock of his own body, Church moved closer to the two lifeguards. They looked over and Church stopped right beside Tex as North offered him a smile.

“Hey, Church,” North said, and Church felt the slithering presence in his chest tighten in the face of North’s constant friendliness. “Enjoying the party?”

“When your sister isn’t shoving shots down my throat,” Church replied, but it did nothing to dim North’s calm. Church was beginning to understand South’s irritation toward him.

“Yeah, she doesn’t really show anyone mercy when it comes to these parties.”

“I don’t think she knows the meaning of that word,” Tex interjected.

“What about you two?” Church asked before North could respond. “Living room too loud for the cool kids?”

If North heard the accusation in Church’s voice, he didn’t react to it. Out of the corner of his eye, Church saw Tex inhale deeply but suppress any noisy exhale.

“We needed to refill our cups,” North replied, gesturing to the containers behind them. “And then Tex was telling me some of her gym stories.”

 “You’ve got more entertaining ones than I do,” Tex said to North.

“That’s because going with Maine and South guarantees something will happen. There was this one time–”

“Fascinating,” Church interrupted, each syllable snagging in his throat and cutting it open as it went. He could feel Tex glaring at him, and he wanted to snap at her that he was being perfectly reasonable given the place’s significance. “Fucking fascinating. Well I’ll just leave you two to your super special, fitness crazy, lifeguard conversation.”

The gym after all was not simply the first place they ran into each other, or the first place Church felt attracted to her, but the first place he felt a genuine connection with her. It was the place where-after Church dropped a weight on his foot and Tex called him a cockbite-she kissed him. And it was the first place Tex agreed to go on actual date with him. Although she would later blame it on the fact that it was 2 in the morning and both of them should have been in bed rather than at a gym.

If they had been in a cartoon, Church would have been spitting flames by that point, but he refused to feel guilty for his bitterness. The other two were staring and Church thought he finally saw some cracks in North’s calm friendliness.

“Actually, I think I heard York call me,” North said. “So I’ll just–”

“Excuse us,” Tex cut him off. She grabbed Church’s shoulder and then began to shove him out of the room. He went, ignoring everyone else as she pulled him up the stairs to the second floor where the bedrooms were.

Tex stopped outside of one of the doors but didn’t move inside it. Instead she whirled around to face him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Really, Church?”

“What?”

She didn’t say anything, just stared at him until he felt a little of the anger seep away.

“Like you can fucking talk,” Church finally snapped, and surprise flitted across her face.

“What?”

“Kaikaina?” She didn’t say anything. “Grif’s younger sister?”

“What about her?” Tex’s shoulders had stiffened again, arms squeezing against her chest as her expression shut down.

“You were jealous of her as soon as you learned there was a girl on our team.”

“I was not.”

“The first thing you said was, you have a fucking chick on your team now?”

“I was _not_ jealous. I was curious. In fact, we’re going to start working out together as of next week.”

“Really.” He raised an eyebrow at her nod. “I thought Shiela was your work-out buddy.”

“She is. We’re more than capable of all working out together. And don’t try to turn this on me.” She glanced over his shoulder. Nobody appeared in the hallway but she lowered her voice anyways. “You were acting like an asshole even more than usual for a completely irrational reason.”

“It was valid,” Church muttered.

“You honestly think I would cheat on you after we agreed to be exclusive this time?”

Her voice had gone cold, and Church felt a spark of panic, for her apathy was much more dangerous to him than her anger. Anger meant she still cared on some level.

“Of course not–”

“Because either it’s that _or_ you think I would willingly hang-out with people who wouldn’t respect our agreement.”

Church didn’t respond, knowing from experience he had walked into an fight he couldn’t win. Tex watched him for a long moment in silence before slowly lowering her arms.

“I didn’t want to do this tonight,” she finally said. “And I know everyone was looking forward to meeting you.”

The last part seemed like it could be an exaggeration, but Church knew the first part was true after all the times they’d dealt with the issue before. He could have chalked it up to the alcohol or the lack of sleep from all his nightmares that week, but she would only accept them as explanations and not justifications, just like all the other times. So he did the only thing he could.

“I’m sorry,” he told her as his shoulders slumped. And he was sorry that he had hurt her. He was sorry if he had ruined her night, especially when she had put up with his emotionally charged Thursday night. “I can leave.”

“No,” she replied. “You aren’t making up for it if you just leave me to deal with the mess.”

“Wha–”

“Go actually talk to them instead of sulking in a corner or attaching yourself to the people you know. And if you’re not a _complete_ asshole, I may forgive you.”

She didn’t move and Church moved off quickly, not wanting to doubt the second chance he had been given.

***

“What are you doing?” South’s loud question startled North, and he looked up from the liquid he’d been staring at.

“Drinking.”

South narrowed her eyes at him and he lifted the cup of beer to his lips with a small smile as if to prove his point.

“No you weren’t,” South said, crossing her arms over her chest. No one else was in their small kitchen at the moment, boisterous chatter drifting through the doorway. Church and Tex had disappeared a few minutes ago, and North hadn’t moved from the kitchen since. “That was your worrying face. It’s only slightly different from your normal resting face, but still different.”

“Was not.”

“Was too,” South replied.

North had to bite down the urge to snap back the same two word sentence and sink into the frequent conversation pattern of their childhood. It was harder to resist with the week they had, for there had been no release for either of their frustrations with the other, only another argument or shouted conversation piled on top of the previous ones.

“Just go back to the party, South. I’ll be there in a sec.”

He expected her to leave with a roll of her eyes or muttered insult as she had after he’d lectured her for not answering her cell phone after the gas leak at the pool. Instead she just leaned her hip against their table and glared at him.

“Was it Theta?” She finally asked. North didn’t say anything and she groaned. “For fuck’s sake.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw Wyoming pulling out some poker chips–”

“Have you finally put in an adoption request for the kid?”

North’s hand tightened around the plastic cup.

“It’s not funny, South,” he said, careful to keep his voice neutral in the way she hated since he knew she was trying to rile him up.

“No, it’s really fucking not anymore.”

“You like him too,” North pointed out. She had accepted the cookie Theta had made her with a startled look, but didn’t throw it away or glare at North.

South shrugged.

“He’s a good kid. But that’s not my point.”

“Then what _is_?”

“Don’t play dumb, North. We’ve been through this conversation enough fucking times this week.”

He leaned back against the counter further, focusing on the sharp edge digging into his back.

“He was really upset, South.”

“Yeah, and? What exactly can you do about it, North? Call child services just because he’s got one deadbeat parent? Tell the police you think this guy’s doing shady shit and get the kid’s dad arrested? I’m sure he’d love you for that.”

South had brought up the same points already that week when North told her what Theta had revealed. Each time it resulted in snapped comments at each other for the rest of the day while Maine looked ready to hit both of them for constantly disturbing the peace of their home. Their parents’ emails and phone messages about their own issues and South’s refusal to speak with either of them about it had done nothing to improve the twins’ moods.

“You’ve already done what you can,” South said when he didn’t speak. “So stop fucking picking at it.”

“It’s not enough,” North argued, seeing Theta’s pale face and the tears he kept blinking back once more.

“It’s _never_ enough for you,” South snapped. “You’re not his guardian, North. You’re not even his fucking brother. You’re his swimming instructor, that’s it.”

“Theta doesn’t feel that way,” North said into the ensuing silence, the laughter from the other room grating on both of their ears.

North expected her to snarl back, always ready to punch, scratch, bite, and claw until she got what she wanted ever since they were children. Wild, their teachers had called her when they were feeling more generous, and she always tromped home with scraped knees and tangled hair. North carried many of the same marks when they were still in elementary school, ready to pull off anyone who went at South from behind, and make sure the majority of the spilled blood came from the other children.

Their parents had let most of it pass without interference, thought they had made it clear to North that at least _one_ of them had to play the role of calming protector in any given situation. That _one_ of them needed to maintain the same control their mother always carried with her, and tuck the anger away if they wanted to make any progress in life.

South only grew wilder when they tried to control her, but North watched his parents and the adults around them.

Watched them bury their sentiments for the sake of harmony, watched them dismiss South’s harsh words, and watched them listen to him when he swallowed his rage and spoke politely.

North watched his sister in the present, but instead of lashing out at him, she crossed over to the fridge to get another drink. She kept the slamming of the door to a minimal, getting out some mix and rum before speaking again.

“He’s gotta learn to deal with it on his own,” she said.

She went to work combining the two liquids in one cup on the counter, North having no idea what number of drink she was on, before she turned back to him. Eyes the same colour as his stared back at him and in her pale face, all the emotions he so regularly controlled were given free rein to sculpt and twist as they pleased.

“He adores you completely for whatever reason,” South continued. “So if he needs your help, he’ll ask for it.”

She grabbed his drink, and North let go of it to avoid spilling. “Now stop being such a fucking baby and get some hard shit like the rest of us adults.”

“Says the younger sibling.”

“By seven fucking minutes.”

North grinned at her and South shoved a new drink into his hand.

“Stop sulking and go piss off Wash. All of your worrying is bringing down the fucking party mood.”

“Yeah yeah,” North replied with a slight laugh. He sipped the drink, lips pursing at the sour taste that flooded his mouth as South laughed at his expression.

And because South had been generous with her words, forgiving him for whatever slights his own words had unintentionally carried for the past week, he added, “Sorry.”

“Well you wouldn’t be my prick of a brother if you weren’t constantly worrying about _everyone_.”

She leaned down to grab some more chips from the cupboard. When she looked up and saw him still standing there, she glared. “Seriously, North, if you do not leave this room and get drinking, I will fucking tell Maine you were the one who ate all the Oreos last week.”

“Going!”

“And watch your own fucking drink,” she called at him as he went.

“That was one time, South!”

North nearly ran into Carolina as South’s shouting followed him. Their manager glanced between him and the kitchen a couple times before raising an eyebrow at North.

“It’s fine,” he assured her.

“So I won’t get my hand bitten off for trying to grab a chip?” she asked, small smile on her face as she headed into the kitchen. North just grinned after her, and then went to scope out the room.

***

Church headed back into the living room. South had brought out a bowl of chips for both the living room and the patio, though she had stomped off toward the music player inside while shouting about someone switching it to a pop playlist. Most of the group had rejoined around the coffee table, but Florida excused himself to step out onto the patio for a bit.

Before Church could reach the group, York called his name from the kitchen doorway. He offered Church an easy smile despite Church’s less than pleasant expression as he approached.

“You busy?” York asked.

“If I was, why would I be here?”

“I mean, do you wanna join everyone else?”

“Uh,” Church glanced over his shoulder at where Tucker chatted with the rest of them. He turned back to York’s hopeful face as Tex’s words echoed in his mind. “I don’t care?”

“Well then, how ‘bout you help me with a little prank?”

Church felt himself perk up a little at the suggestion, though skepticism whirled through the slight enthusiasm.

“On who?”

“Wyoming.”

“Didn’t the dude just get out of the fucking hospital?”

“ _My_ hospital visit didn’t stop him from making horrible knock-knock jokes as soon as I got back.”

“Wow, what a dick,” Church said, only half-serious, but York nodded as if the words had been dripping with agreement.

“Yeah, Reggie’s gotta learn a lesson.”

“So that’s why?”

“Also, he likes Katy Perry.” York continued before Church could point out the obvious. “I know I like pop music, but at least I like _good_ pop music.”

Church bit back his disagreement only because he got the feeling York would be more than happy to go on a half-sober tangent about the qualities of pop music. Instead, he just nodded.

“Okay, so what’s the prank?” York grinned, and Church blinked a little at the sudden glee.

“Water balloons.”

Church stared.

“Water balloons,” he repeated, and wondered just how much all those shots York had been forced to take were affecting his current planning processes.

“I shoved them under the counter. The balloons. So we just gotta fill them up and bam!”

Well, it was simple enough to remember, at least. Church had to give him points for that since half of the practical jokes the Reds and Blues came up with were so complicated by the end, they either fell apart or completely backfired.

“Why do you need my help exactly?”

“It’s lame if he just gets hit with one balloon,” York explained. “And I need a guard-watch.” He stopped, and frowned. “I mean a watch-guard. Fuck, someone watching the door for anyone else.”

Church was rapidly reconsidering his opinion of how drunk the lifeguard currently was. Though judging by the way Church continued sway on his feet every once and awhile, he really wasn’t doing such a good job either.

“You in?” York asked, once again giving Church a hopeful expression that he imagined the man tried to pull on Carolina all the time.

Church glanced back over his shoulder. Now both the twins had left the group, South to disappear outside and North still visible where he stood in the patio doorway talking to Carolina. Wyoming sat at the couch where the others were, and he offered Tucker a smirk in response to whatever Church’s roommate said. Tex sat on a mattress she’d shoved closer to the table, watching everyone with an amused expression.

Church had no idea if Tex would count this as positive interaction or if it would just make things even worse.

“Fuck it, let’s do this.”

He followed York further into the kitchen.

In the meantime, Tucker and Wash had both grabbed cushions to sit on, rather than move onto the couch Maine and Wyoming occupied. Tex had pushed the TV out of the way in order to place one of the many mattresses in front of the coffee table to sit on it.

“–only reason is because you’ve been drinking lame-ass beer,” Tucker was arguing with Wash.

The remains of the card game were scattered across the table, Wyoming beginning to scoop them into his hands. Tex leaned back on her elbows to watch them and Maine seemed to be attempting to meld with the back of the couch.

“I think you just need to admit that I am better than you at holding my alcohol,” Wash said calmly.

“Bullshit, dude. I am the best out of the all the Reds and Blues besides Grif, and they drink way more than this. Except for Caboose and Simmons cuz we don’t let Caboose drink and Simmons is too twiggy to drink much.”

Maine shifted slightly and flipped through the pages of the notebook sitting in his lap. He held it up for Tucker to read.

_So have a contest._

“Excellent idea, Maine,” Tucker grinned, and turned to face Wash, finding him closer than he remembered. “I’ll even let Wash choose his weapon of choice.”

“Do you mean poison?” Tex teased, and Tucker waved his hand at her.

“You know what I meant.”

“How would we do that?” Wash asked.

“C’mon, Wash, you’re a big, scary lifeguard. Clearly you guys have done this shit before.” The grin on Tucker’s face grew bigger and he swayed into Wash’s personal space. Wash leaned back a fraction, but otherwise didn’t react.

“Shall we do a shots challenge?” Wyoming asked. “Simple and quick.”

“How much of a pause?” Wash asked, looking at all of them in turn for suggestions.

“Five seconds!”

“ _No_ , Tucker.” Wash said, shooting him a look.

“Twenty,” Tex suggested. She straightened so she could grab her own cup and take a swig. “Gives you time to breathe in between, and you’ll actually feel it before the end that way.”

“You suck,” Tucker told her. “But fine, I’m good with twenty. Wash?”

Wash stared at his cup as he fiddled with the rim of it. With a sigh, he placed it on the table, but he offered a small grin when he met Tucker’s gaze. It quirked up in the left a little higher, giving him a roguish air.

“Wyoming, let’s get out the whiskey.”

“So Irish, Wash,” Tucker laughed as Wyoming pulled out two shot glasses from the lower shelf of the coffee table. He began to pour from the bottle one of the guards had brought to the table for quick mixes during King’s Cup. 

“What?” He stared at Tucker. “That doesn’t even make any sense. At all.”

“Totally does. Like–Irish whiskey.”

Wash squinted at him and Maine tapped his shoulder to sign something.

“Maine says that doesn’t make sense and he’s Irish.”

“What?” Tucker turned to Maine. “You’re Irish?”

Maine nodded, no hint of a lie on his face. Tucker looked back and forth between Wash and Mane. “No fair–I don’t know him well enough to tell if he’s lying! Hey, Moustache, is he lying?”

“Are you lads sure you should go through with this?” Wyoming asked instead.

“Wait wait!” Tucker blurted. He pointed at Wash. “You gotta have a shot before we start cuz I drank from that nasty cup during King’s and it was _at least_ two shots.”

“That’s fair,” Wash conceded, and he took the offered shot from Wyoming. He didn’t so much as wince after taking two of them in a row, but Tucker was too buzzed by that point to suffer from any lack of confidence.

They began, with Wyoming as the constant pourer and Tex providing a countdown in a lazy tone in between each shot. After they had taken five shots, Tucker saw Maine glance over and offer a slow wave to Carolina as she reached the couch. She smiled at the sight of all of them and then began to make her away toward Wyoming so she could take a seat.

Water exploded and all of them jerked away from the source. Tucker flung out an arm to keep himself from falling flat onto his back and Tex straightened into a crouch as if under attack. In the sudden silence, horror slowly began to fill Tucker’s being as his gaze went to Carolina.

She had frozen in place with hunched shoulders, hair now soaking wet. The broken remains of three balloons lay at her feet as water dripped from her shirt and rolled down her neck. Without making a sound, she slowly turned around to find her target.

Church and York both stood in the doorway of the kitchen, standing perfectly still as they stared at Carolina with wide eyes. South’s laughter broke the silence and York held up his hands in a desperate sign of surrender. Carolina didn’t move.

“His idea!” Church shouted, pointing at York and then making a dash for the patio.

“Um,” York began. “Would it make it any better if I said you weren’t the target?”

“Five. Seconds,” Carolina spat out, and York slowly started to edge toward the patio door. “Four, three–”

York twisted and launched into a sprint, following a similar route to Church’s. Carolina continued to count out loud, stalking toward the back when she hit zero. North scrambled out of the way, but also moved onto the patio to watch the scene unfold.

Church had gotten to the other side of the pool already, but he had paused to study the darkness since he didn’t know the lay-out of the yard. York quickly skidded to his side as Carolina stepped onto the patio. South leaned against the wall for support as laughter shook her body, and Florida studied all of them with a small smile.

“North, if you could please keep them from going back inside,” Carolina said, and York shot him a panicked look from across the pool. “And I won’t make you do the entire monthly checklist tomorrow afternoon.”

“Uh,” North said, and Carolina headed toward the two.

They waited for her to get to the corner of the pool, and then tried to run in the opposite direction. Unfortunately for them, neither had the best coordination in that moment, and South had left the lawn chairs lying where they had been blown over in last night’s storm.

York tripped on one of them, and then Church stumbled over him. They rolled onto the ground, and Carolina broke into a run at the sight. She reached them within seconds as they desperately pushed themselves to their feet, and she wrapped her hands around each of their forearms.

Before either of them even had time to squeak, she whipped York and then Church toward the pool. Both of them went crashing into the water, struggling to the surface with loud gasps and incoherent swearing from Church.

North hadn’t thought it possible, but South laughed even harder at that, slumping down until she sat on the pavement. Florida, surveying the scene with his typical cheer, called out,

“Oh, are we skinny dipping already?”

Everyone in the living room looked up at the sound of his voice. Wash and Tucker were stuck in a waiting period between another set of shots, and Wash saw Tucker’s expression brighten at Florida’s statement.

“Hell yeah!” he cheered as he wobbled to his feet.

Wash opened his mouth, but felt his words dry up when Tucker stripped faster than any person Wash had ever seen.

“Tucker!” Wash shouted, and everyone but Tex closed their eyes instinctively. He heard the sound of Tucker’s feet moving away even as Wash yelled after him. “It’s almost November–you’re gonna get pneumonia!”

Carolina stepped away as Tucker streaked past her and launched himself into the pool. The impact sent water splashing into the others’ faces, and Church shoved water at his laughing friend when he resurfaced. North took a step closer to grin down at York who gave him the middle finger.

Hands pressed against North’s back, and he didn’t even have time to inhale before they sent him stumbling into the pool. He resurfaced to his twin’s laughter as she yelled,

“Nobody wants to see your pasty ass naked!”

In the living room, Wash sighed as Tex snickered and headed toward the patio. He turned to Maine with a pleading gaze.

“Make sure he doesn’t drown himself?”

Maine rolled his eyes, but he clambered to his feet anyways. “Thanks.”

Wyoming dragged Wash’s attention back to the alcohol and cards, while Maine walked toward the backyard. Now York was trying to convince Carolina to climb in while Tucker and Church attempted to drown the other. North had climbed out of the pool to chase after South, while Florida sipped his drink in one of the lawn chairs he’d put upright.

None of them noticed Maine heading toward them, and his gaze locked onto Carolina’s exposed back. She’d put her wet hair up in a ponytail, and it swung back and forth as she shook her head at York.

“Behind you, Carolina!” Tex warned just as Maine reached Carolina, for he hadn’t seen Tex leaning in the shadows cast by the house’s walls.

Carolina whirled around, hands reaching out to grab Maine’s outstretched ones. She sidestepped him, and used the momentum of the push he’d been in the middle of to send him over the pool’s edge. He twisted his body and flailed as he went, and his hands snagged on Carolina’s hair.

He let go inches above the water, but his momentary grasp was enough to drag Carolina off balance and pull her into the water with him.

“Really?” Carolina asked when they both stopped spitting water out of their mouths.

Church had started laughing at them, and York swam a little bit closer with a grin. North had given up on South as she had escaped into the house, and he waited for Florida to go grab the towels North had set out in one corner of the living room.

_You pushed me off the diving board._

“That was a month ago!”

_Time just makes revenge sweeter._

“Baby,” she teased, and then sent a wave of water into all the others’ faces. While they spluttered, she looked up to where Tex stood by the pool.

“Thank you,” Carolina said. The words didn’t quite fit in her mouth, so they fell out in a clunky manner rather than the smoothness she prided herself on. For a moment, Carolina thought Tex would see the words as insincere in their awkward staccato, but her lips turned up the smallest amount.

“Well, they certainly don’t deserve to win when us girls are better than all of them.”

“True.” Carolina let her agreement become verbal, and did her best to ignore the instinctive resentment she felt bubbling in response to Tex once more being in the right.

Tex just backed away as if to keep anyone from trying to shove her in, and York’s eager words drew Carolina’s attention back to the other residents of the pool. Florida returned with towels and everyone’s drinks. South’s tequila still sat on one of the plastic tables outside, and Tex offered it to Carolina when she asked Florida to grab it. The bottle made its rounds through the pool and ended in North’s hands where he stood by the edge.   

The pool wasn’t very warm, though the heater had still been left on at least. The twins and Maine usually stopped using it once November began, keeping the heater at a lower temperature throughout October to save on electricity. Wash had suggested they just turn it off and put the cover on at the end of September like normal people, but that had earned the rookie only loud protests and a glare from Maine.

With the alcohol moving through everyone’s veins, the chill of the water and air was barely noticeable even when they lifted their bodies out of the cocoon of liquid. Florida went into the house once more to grab the bags with the change of clothes all of the lifeguards had brought just in case. Tex, Tucker, and Church were the only ones who hadn’t, leaving room only for booze in their bags. North offered to spare some clothes for them and Maine signed they could have some of his if they didn’t mind clothes three sizes too large.

Church was the first to exit the pool, shoving Tucker’s grinning face under one last time before he went. Tex had taken a chair beside Florida while the others were in the pool, but she stood up when Church approached her.

She smirked at the water dripping from his body, and he wrapped his arms around his body when a breeze swept through the backyard. Florida held out a towel, and Tex grabbed it from him and tossed it at Church’s face. He wiped off his limbs and squeezed out his shirt as best he could as Tex watched.

“So am I forgiven yet?” Church asked, and Tex tilted her head. With all the alcohol, it was hard to feel anything beyond happiness, but the thought of a break-up managed to cause bits of dread to pierce the warmth curling inside him.

“Hmmm,” she hummed without taking her gaze off Church’s face. “Are you going to be my cushion once you’re dried off?”

“Yes?”

“Then I guess so,” Tex replied, and she led him back inside.

***

Wash could hear the loud swearing and splashing from outside even with the music continuing to blast from the Ipod dock. Wyoming had returned to playing cards, though the two had to make do without poker given they were the only ones left and Wash had a _terrible_ poker face. It amused Connie to no end, and she always brought it up when he tried to hide how stressed he was.

South was the first to return, ducking in earlier than Wash expected in order to escape North. She shook her head when Wash asked if she would join, electing to vanish into the kitchen for a few minutes instead.

“Still goin’ strong, Wash?” she asked when she came back out with another cup, gesturing at the Wash’s as well. He nodded, and she gave a little cheer. “Fucking awesome.”

“No doubt everyone is beginning to feel it a little bit though, hm?” Wyoming said to the both of them. Wash nodded again, and as if to prove Wyoming’s words, the action send a wave of dizziness through him.

“Still not drunk enough to swim,” he said, and placed his card down.

Church and Tex were the next two to enter the house. South perched on the head rest of the couch and watched Wash play against Wyoming, though she kept launching herself off the furniture and then returning in a show of restless energy.

“Where’s North’s room?” Tex asked them, and South just pointed up the stairs.

“Third door on your left,” Wash said, and frowned. “Or wait. Left.”

“You said left twice.”

“Fuck, then the other one.”

“Right,” Tex said, and then dragged Church off toward the stairs.

“If you fucking have sex in my room I will fucking smash your cock in!” South shouted after them. They returned only a moment later, Church now wearing a pair of North’s jeans and Tex’s jacket.

Church stumbled over to the couch with Tex’s hand in his own, and then he sunk onto the couch. Tex barely waited for him to shift into position before she lowered herself into his lap and hooked an arm around his neck. Church’s arms went up to keep her in place and Wash didn’t think he’d ever seen the guy look so content **.**

South launched herself away from the couch once more with a roll of her eyes at the couple, though this time in order to go grab her phone. Wash returned his attention to the game after sending a distrustful glare at South’s phone due to her tendency to take as many embarrassing pictures and videos as she could.

Only ten minutes later, they were interrupted by yet another of the lifeguard’s return to the house. Wash was pretty sure the last time he checked the clock it had been half past midnight,but he had no clue how long ago that had been. Time never meant much at the staff parties–even if some of them had work in the morning, during the summer they had all become experts at going to work on less than four hours of sleep, hung-over, or both.  

“Soouuuuuth,” North called from the patio doorway, elongating his sister’s name into a full sentence.

“ _What_?” South once more stood in the middle of the room rather than sit with the rest of them. She turned to glare at her twin’s sad expression as everyone else swung their gaze around to the source of the distraction.

“How come you never hug me anymore?”

A pause in which everyone turned to stare at South and the expectations that grew within the silence dug into their shoulders.

“Oh fucking hell, how you much have you had to drink?”

Wash tried to stifle his laughter as he watched the scene unfold. South always ragged on anyone for drinking “weak shit”, but never kept track of how much hard liquor everyone had or stopped to think about the possible consequences she would find annoying.

“You used to let me hug you.”

“Why don’t you go give Maine a big ass bear hug if you want a hug?”

“I did already.”

“You–”

“Soooouuuuuth.”

“Jesus Christ, _you are a twenty-two year old man not a child_!”

“Southyyy–”

“Fuck, alright alright, just get over here and shut up.”

North’s expression instantly brightened, and he stumbled toward her. Rather than offer a normal embrace, he simply draped himself over South’s shoulders. Wash was pretty sure if she moved North would fall flat on his face, and South seemed to be thinking the same thing judging by her lack of sudden movements.

“How do you always forget?” Wash said in between his laughter.

“I don’t, I just always fucking hope he’ll find some asshole to hug.”

“Good choice of words,” Tex drawled from where she craned her neck to smirk at them. Church didn’t even bother, just kept his cheek resting on Tex’s chest.

South gave her the middle finger and then shifted slightly. She sighed.

“Alright, come on, brother. Standing like this is fucking exhausting.”

She hunched and then hoisted North onto her back. Wash almost expected her to fall and for both of them to go crashing down, but she managed to make it all the way to the mattress by the TV. Once there, she slowly crouched until she could fall back onto her bum without sending North crashing too hard to the ground and dragging her with him. He still didn’t release her though, just leaned all his body weight on her as he knelt rather than stood.

“Used to fall asleep back to back,” South said. “Mom thought we were gonna kill our spines.”

“I would offer to cut you in, but it seems you’re a bit stuck,” Wyoming said with a chuckle, and South glared at him. He turned his gaze to Tex and Church where they cuddled, and Wash wondered if commenting on that out loud would get him killed. “Care to make the game more interesting?”

“Eh,” Tex said, and shifted. “Why not.”

Church scowled as she pulled away from him. Instead of just sitting on the couch, Tex tugged him down on to the floor as she shoved the couch away. When they all stared at her, she shrugged and said,

“Helps my concentration.”

“Having a freezing as fuck ass?” South questioned, but Wyoming just handed her some cards and started the game again.

Ten minutes later, Tex and Wyoming were arguing about the latest play when Wash felt water drip onto the back of his neck.

“ _Tucker_ ,” Wash screeched as a soaking wet and nude Tucker quite suddenly dropped into his lap.

“S’cold,” Tucker replied, and simply curled into a tight ball. He shoved his head under Wash’s neck and then repeatedly rubbed his forehead against Wash’s chest as he attempted to burrow into his body heat.

Church and South burst into hysterical laughter.

“Yes but–Jesus Christ–you’re soaking wet and you’re not wearing clothes!”

“S’okay.”

“No it’s really not!”

Wash looked at the others desperately for help, but Church was laughing so hard, he had fallen onto his side on the floor. Tex only smirked at them as Wyoming shook his head in disgust at the game being interrupted once again.

“Okay,” Wash said, forcing his brain to function despite the alcohol seeping into his grey matter. “Okay, so let’s just–dry. You need to be dry.”

He tried to push Tucker out of his lap. Tucker opened his eyes with a frown, but eventually responded to Wash’s desperate shoves. Once Wash had free rein of his legs, he stood up and tried to tug Tucker into a similar upright position.

Tucker swayed once he stood and Wash absolutely did not let his gaze go any further down than Tucker’s collarbone. He kept his eyes firmly looking only at Tucker’s confused face and wide brown eyes.

“Clothes,” Wash said. “Dry clothes. You won’t be cold anymore. C’mon.”

He nearly slumped in relief when Tucker just followed Wash dutifully, Wash keeping a firm grip around Tucker’s wrist to keep him from going off anywhere else. The others were still laughing, but giving them the finger would be multitasking in a way he didn’t feel up to in that moment. Instead he just focused on getting to the stairs and then getting up them.

Tucker’s arm suddenly went taunt, and Wash nearly toppled backwards as Tucker tripped on the stairs. Wash released Tucker so he could turn around to see Tucker on his hands and knees, staring down at the stairs with a wide gaze.

“The stairs fucking attacked me,” Tucker said without looking up from them. Wash found himself incapable of doing anything but staring at Tucker. “Why the fuck would they do that?”

“Oh my god.”

“That was so hurtful.”

Wash placed a hand on the wall to steady himself and realized he was potentially not sober enough to make it through the next five minutes alive.

“I’m sure they’re very sorry and didn’t mean to hurt you,” Wash told Tucker.

“Good. They gotta send me a–a–a.” He finally looked up at Wash. “I forgot.”

He looked a lot smaller in his drunken sadness, and Wash reminded himself the mission was to get him _clothed_ and dried, not cheer him up over an imaginary slight from the stairs. Keeping his gaze on the top of Tucker’s head, Wash hauled him to his feet and then led the other man to Maine’s room.

Wash had left a sweater at the house weeks ago and kept forgetting to pick it up. Knowing the twins would enjoy some mischief if they were bored, Maine had kept the clothing in his room for safe keeping. After flicking on the lights, Wash spotted it on the dresser and hurried to grab it.

When he handed it to Tucker, he just frowned at it until Wash repeatedly told him to put it on. He almost expected to have to help, but Tucker had no problem putting it on once it was made clear that’s what he needed to do. His head popped through the neck hole and the hood snagged on the top of his head as he blinked at Wash.

The sight made his chest go tight with affection, and it made Wash realize just how hard the alcohol must be hitting him.

“C’mon, Maine’s pants will be too big,” Wash said, and led Tucker out of the room.

They made a quick pit stop in the bathroom to grab a towel, Tucker grasping at his dreads to wring them out and then struggling to wrap the towel around his head. In North’s room, Wash grabbed some of North’s spare pyjama bottoms for Tucker, and looked away as Tucker hopped around the room while attempting to get them on.

Back in the hallway, they passed South carrying her brother bridal style to his bedroom. Her ability to keep her balance in comparison to everyone else always impressed Wash, and she grinned when Tucker nearly plummeted down the stairs.

“Wyoming’s waiting for us to keep playing,” she told Wash. “Oh, and bitch and her boyfriend left. Said she wanted to leave before she had to carry his wasted ass home and figured we wouldn’t kill Tucker.”

Wash reached out to grab Tucker’s shoulder once more to keep him from falling down the stairs as he muttered about their stupidity. They returned to the living room together, and Wash spotted Maine sitting by the coffee table. He wondered how the other guards were still outside despite the chill, but Tucker’s swaying pulled his attention back to the matter at hand.

Wash and Tucker stopped by the mattress in front of the TV where South had collapsed with North before. There were blankets, pillows, and sleeping bags already piled on all of the mattresses scattered across the room so anyone could reach a warm and comfortable resting place within seconds. They’d learned after the first time that half of them would just pass out on the floor otherwise.

“Okay, Tucker,” Wash began, but stopped when Maine reached out to grab his ankle. His jerk sent Wash falling back on his ass onto the mattress, legs splaying outward.

Wash had let go of Tucker, but the moment Wash sat down, Tucker imitated him. He plopped into Wash’s lap again and pressed his cheek to Wash’s chest with a contented sigh.

“Warm,” Tucker mumbled, and then fell silent beyond the steady sound of his breathing.

He shifted a little to press closer to Wash, a fist curling in the loose fabric of Wash’s shirt. The towel fell off and Wash couldn’t find the energy to pick it up, lifting up his arms to keep Tucker from sliding off and hitting his head.

“So fucking adorable,” South commented when she returned and took a seat on the couch. “Well, Wash? You still up?”

“Yeah,” Wash said, ignoring how peaceful the solid weight of Tucker’s warm body made him feel. “Deal me in.”

***

Tex woke up to a quiet apartment, dim light spilling into the room through Church’s pale blinds. She blinked a few times before pushing herself into a sitting position and glancing to her right side. Church lay beside her on his stomach, head turned away from her with his arm thrown over her. She studied him for a long while; his mouth parted slightly and his dark hair stuck up from sleeping with wet hair.

The clock on the bedside tabled changed to 9:30am and Tex carefully lifted Church’s arm off her. He shifted but didn’t waken, just burrowed his face further into the pillow. She grinned a little as she spiked his hair even further with her fingers.

The double bed creaked beneath her as she got up to grab her phone and then padded from the room. Tex didn’t bother turning on the kitchen lights, grabbing food and dishes using her memory and sunlight. Once she had a bowl of cereal and had taken a seat, she unlocked her phone and scrolled through her contacts.

First came a message to the number she had taken off of Tucker’s phone last night.

 _Hey, Kai_ , Tex texted. _It’s Texas. Do you want to go to the gym together?_

The message sent within seconds and Tex moved on to staring at the list of message threads on her phone. Her finger hovered above one and she glanced at the door of Church’s room. It remained closed, and Tex couldn’t hear anyone moving around the apartment.

She returned her gaze to the text Connie had sent her on Friday that Tex had yet to reply to.

 _Can we talk?_ The message read. _It’s about the Director._

 _Alright,_ Tex began to write. _When and where?_

***

The sound of cupboard doors being opened and the clank of plates being piled on top of each other dragged Tucker from sleep. He opened his eyes and then immediately shut them, groaning as his body took his consciousness as permission to make him fully aware of every aching part of him. His stomach clenched and churned while a headache gleefully dug its claws into every inch of Tucker’s skull.

Tucker drew up his knees in a fetal position as he tried to figure out where he lay without opening his eyes. Memories of last night started off clear and grew progressively hazier, random bits of memories flashing into existence before burning out a few seconds later.

The surface he lay on was too soft to be the floor and slowly he remembered all of the mattresses he’d seen spread around the living room the night before. He had no recollection of getting himself onto one and grabbing blankets for himself, and if this was actually his bed, he had no fucking clue how he had gotten home.

With another softer groan, Tucker accepted that he would have to open his eyes to figure everything out. He could hear a low murmur of voices from the other room, all male. Too many for Tucker to be at his apartment with Church and Tex.

Tucker opened his eyes and instantly regretted every decision he’d made the night before that left him in such discomfort. He stared at the bottom of the couch, and forced himself to look around. The coffee table remained in the same place Tucker remembered, but the couches had been pushed against the wall, and Tucker didn’t remember that happening.

His head rested on a pillow, and there were a bunch more scattered around the floor and mattress he currently rested on. A sleeping bag had been unzipped and then spread over top of him, and when he pushed it back, he realized he was wearing clothes that weren’t his own. He wasn’t sure which was stranger; that they weren’t his clothes or that he wasn’t naked.

After ten deep breaths, Tucker forced himself to sit up. His stomach rejected that idea, but Tucker just gritted his teeth and remained upright. Well, somewhat upright, as he wrapped his arms around his gut and he bent over a little. He focused on just breathing through the nausea and not throwing up all over the bed.

When Tucker felt a little less crippled by his body, he pushed himself into a crouch and then finally stood. One of the mattresses in the room had sheets and blankets neatly piled on it, while the others all looked as if somebody else had slept in them and simply rolled off them like Tucker had.

Tucker headed toward the kitchen, rubbing at his sore eyes as he went.

Three lifeguards occupied the room and Tucker leaned against the doorway. York slumped at the table, head buried in his arms with a mug at his elbow. Wash sat to his left, a plate of crumbs in front of him. North sat on the counter, his hands wrapped tightly around a mug as he stared at the floor.

“Hey,” Tucker croaked, and he winced. Wash and North both looked up, while York didn’t move.

“You survived,” North said, and Wash smiled.

“Water,” Tucker said after a second’s of consideration. North shifted a little so Tucker could grab a glass from the cupboard above his head. After gulping down half the cup, Tucker turned back to them. “No thanks to you, assholes. Fucking warn a guy next time one of you is incapable of getting drunk.”

Wash laughed at that, and the sound startled York from his slumped position. He blinked up at all of them, gaze going to Tucker when he took a seat at the table to York’s right.

“Oh hey, you’re alive.”

Tucker scowled, and York offered him a smile. “No worries, first time Wash came to one of these, I ended up in a similar position.”

“Well, not quite the same position,” North laughed, and Wash’s face started to go red at that. Tucker looked between all three of them with a frown.

“What?” He turned to Wash when the other two just grinned. “What happened? I remember going into the pool, and then it’s pretty fuzzy after that.”

York snorted and then winced.

“Ow, fuck, don’t make me laugh. Carolina kicked you out cuz she was worried you were gonna drown.”

“Oh. Well that was nice of her.”

“She doesn’t actually want you to die, despite your awful pick-up lines,” York assured him.

“Well, neither of us were actually all there for the next bit,” North explained. “But according to South this morning and her pictures, you decided to take a nap in Wash’s lap.”

“A very wet, very nude nap,” York added, as if that bit wasn’t obvious given the current shade of red Wash’s face had become.

“She’s never gonna get rid of those pictures,” Wash muttered into his hands, and North laughed.

“No, she’s definitely not.”

“Uh, well, sorry about that then,” Tucker offered.

He wasn’t as embarrassed as they were probably expecting, but Wash seemed to be doing a good enough job for the two of them. Tucker had a lot of experience with those kind of drunken incidents. Maybe not that specific one, but being naked at some point and drunken cuddles were not new experiences. If there was nothing more than that, Tucker could simply continue on with the day.

“It’s alright,” Wash said, finally removing his face from his hands and looking at Tucker. “Part of it’s probably my fault given my part in that shot contest.”

“We can blame Maine, Wyoming, and Tex while we’re at it.”

Wash laughed softly at that, and a little of the blush faded.

“So is this?” Tucker asked, gesturing down at his clothes.

“Sweater’s mine, pants are North’s.”

“Ha, I knew it was your sweater!”

“How?” All three of them stared at him curiously and he grinned.

“Cuz the only fucking sweater colour you own is _grey_.”

“Oh damn, Wash, he’s figured out your secret already,” York teased.

“Only took like a day.”

Wash shook his head, but didn’t try to protest. He went over to the counter and returned with Tucker’s phone instead, which Tucker took with gratitude. He nearly groaned for the third time that morning when he saw it was only ten. No wonder he still felt so shitty. But he had to admit it was better than sleeping past when he needed to get Junior.

“Ugh,” Tucker said at the reminder, and Wash shot him a look of concern. “Taking the bus this hung over fucking _sucks_. You guys have a plastic bag I can take in case I need to puke?”

“Why are you busing?” Wash asked as North hopped down from the counter to grab a bag from under the sink.

“Gotta get Junior, dude. Remember?”

“Yeah but I mean, you don’t have a car?”   

“Uh, no? Do you?”

Wash nodded and Tucker figured he really should have guessed that given how put together and responsible Wash tried to be. Having a car would only add to that image.

“He was always the one who got roped into getting food for us in the summer,” York said with a grin.

“Do you want a ride?” Wash asked, and Tucker stared.

“Don’t you have work?”

“Not till one. Are you getting Junior before that?”

“Eleven-thirty. But–” A particularly unpleasant cramp pinched his stomach. “You sure?”

Wash shrugged.

“It’s fine. Like you said, taking the bus when hung-over sucks.”

Which is how, an hour later, Tucker found himself in the passenger seat of Wash’s beat up car. There were scratches along the side and areas where the sky blue paint faded away, but the engine burst to life and didn’t spontaneously combust when Wash backed out of the driveway. Tucker had asked where everyone else was after consuming a slice of toast and nearly throwing up. He’d been told Carolina and South had to go in for work already while Wyoming and Florida always left in the morning before anyone else had woken. Maine remained snoring in his room while Church and Tex had left at night.

“I’m impressed you didn’t puke at all,” York had said for his goodbye, and Tucker had replied with a cocky grin and statement about the steel like strength of his gag reflex. North had given Tucker a plastic bag and a smile.

“You guys should come again next time, it was a lot of fun,” he told Tucker, and Tucker couldn’t find a note of deceit in his voice.

Now Wash drove through quiet side streets as Tucker rambled off instructions. The car gave him less motion sickness than the bus, but Tucker still curled into as much of a ball as he could in the passenger seat. Wash had grabbed two water bottles for them before they left, so Tucker sipped on his every few minutes, determined not to throw up in Wash’s car when he’d offered the ride.

They pulled into the driveway of the house of Junior’s friend. Tucker unpeeled himself from the seat and headed to the door, waving for Wash to stay seated. The mother offered Tucker a smile when she opened the door, but he knew within seconds it was less genuine than North’s, and he could see the same judgment he’d seen in her eyes last night when he mentioned he was Junior’s dad. He waited on the doorstep as the woman left to get Junior, and his son bounced to the door with a grin on his face and unzipped bag on his back.

Tucker knelt down to receive Junior’s big hug, and held him still so he could properly zip up his bag. They thanked the hostess, Junior much more enthusiastically than Tucker, and then headed to the car.

“Wash is giving us a ride today,” Tucker told Junior, as he held open the back door for him. “Remember your manners, okay?”

“Thank you, Mr. Wash!” Junior said while Tucker bent over to buckle Junior’s seatbelt. Wash twisted around so Junior could see his smiling face.

“No problem, Junior.”

Tucker closed the door and got back into the passenger’s seat. He asked Junior how the sleep-over went as Wash backed out of the driveway. Junior babbled all about the different kids who had been there and the different games they had played, and Tucker slumped in relief at the sound of his son’s happiness.

“Are we going to Mr. Wash’s house, Daddy?” Junior suddenly asked after inhaling a huge breath. Tucker saw Wash startle a little out of the corner of his eye, and Tucker tried to hide his own surprise at Junior’s question.

“Why do you ask?”

“Cuz we’re in his car.”

“Sorry, buddy,” Tucker said after a pause. “But Wash’s gotta work.”

Tucker saw Junior slump in the back of the car, and Wash seemed to catch a glimpse of it in the rear view mirror judging by the glance he gave Tucker.

“My place not cool enough for you anymore?” Tucker teased, watching carefully to see what effects the words would have.

Junior just shrugged one shoulder without looking at Tucker, and Tucker wondered if Junior was still riding the high from having fun with friends the night before given how shy he had been around Wash before. Or maybe it had something to do with the comics poking out from beneath Wash’s coat in the backseat.

“How about next weekend?” Wash blurted into the silence. He looked over quickly at the staring Tucker. “I don’t work Saturday nights and there isn’t another staff outing as far as I know so if you guys wanted, you could come over next Saturday.”

“Man, don’t tell me you give into his sad puppy look that easily,” Tucker said even though he couldn’t deny a desire to see Wash’s place and hang-out with him some more. So long as there was no more drinking involved, Tucker figured he could survive.

“If I knew you were that easy to convince, I would have brought him to every practice,” Tucker continued, and he could see Junior leaning forward. “Do you let all those kids in your swimming lessons push you around like this?”

“So is that a no or–”

“No!” Junior shouted before Tucker could get a word out. “We want to go. Right **,** Daddy?”

“Will you be extra good for your mom this week?” Tucker asked him.

“I’ll brush my teeth a hundred times every day!”

Tucker laughed, and reached back to ruffle Junior’s dark brown curls.

“Well I guess you have our answer, Wash.”

Wash smiled and then asked,

“Do either of you have any allergies? Cuz you know I have cats so–”

“Cats?” Junior repeated, straightening in his seat and Tucker felt a grin spread across his face.

“Well now there’s no way you’re getting out of this visit, Wash.”

Wash just laughed, and Tucker had to wonder if he was still drunk when the sound filled his chest with a warm buzz.

Wash dropped Tucker and Junior off at their apartment and Tucker leaned closer as Junior climbed out.

“Here, give me your phone, dude.”

Wash handed it over and watched as Tucker created a contact under his name. “It’s easier to figure out the details and last minute changes this way.”

He handed the phone back. “Thanks again for the ride.”

“No problem.”

Tucker exited and offered him a grin when he reached Junior’s impatient form at the front of the apartment building. From there, Wash made a quick stop back at North’s to grab his stuff and drive the others to the pool for the afternoon recreational swim. Once there, Wash sent off a text to Tucker so they would both have each other’s numbers before Carolina called for his attention.

She sat at the computer, a large Timmies tea resting on the desk beside her. South stretched out on the cot, and she kicked York when he tried to curl up on the end.

Carolina held out a sheet of paper for Wash with a smile when he reached her.

“Your Saturday private for this next session,” she told him, and he blinked at her.

“One of Kimball’s kids?” North asked as Wash took the paper and studied the name. North climbed onto the table and leaned against the window.

“Judging by the name, yeah.”

Carolina turned her attention back to the pool deck while North leaned his elbows on his knees and stared at the paper in Wash’s hand.

“What is it?”

Wash pursed his lips for a moment and then tested the pronunciation of the unfamiliar name.

“Epsilon.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you all enjoyed that whirlwind of character interactions and development!! Attempts are being made at fixing, in a sense, the horrible brokenness that occurs in all the Freelancers and their relationships by the end of the plot arc in canon, but hopefully everyone is still in character despite that. 
> 
> I have posted short fics for both Church and Tex's first meeting that is referenced in this chapter, and a short fic about the event South refers to when she tells North to watch his own drink this time. I've changed this to a series, so you can find the short fics under the series. 
> 
> And now we are almost halfway through the fic!! There will be one more full session and then a post-session arc. I never expected to even write this, let alone post so much, so thank you so much for everyone who's read, commented, and left kudos so far!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well,” Wash said, and he looked over at Sarge. “I guess this is perfect timing for our announcement. Sarge?”

“Hey, dudes, what’s going on?”

“Hey, Vic,” Church and Tucker greeted the cashier when they arrived at the pool together the Monday after the staff party. The pasty teenager looked no different after his extended vacation away from the pool, and his brown hair remained in its ugly crew cut just like the last time he’d been there.

“So dudes, what’s been happening while I was gon-o? What’s the downlow on this place?”

“Uh,” Church said, both of them always a little taken back by Vic’s way of speaking though they had grown more accustomed to it over the few times they’d seen him in the summer. “One of the lifeguards is now our water polo coach.”

“Lifeguard, huh? Cool, dudes.”

“Yeah, well we should go in before he starts looking for us,” Tucker said, and they headed into the change room with Vic’s parting words calling after them.

Just as Tucker had expected, Church didn’t bother to give Vic the news update Church had given Tucker that morning. While they headed out the door of their apartment that morning, Church warned Tucker it would be the only time he came to the pool that week. Midterms were getting close, and final projects needed to be started, and so soon Church would retreat into schoolwork more and more. He had actually lasted a lot longer this year than previous years, but it was inevitable that his withdrawal would occur at some point. It had been happening since first year when Tucker shared a residence room with Church, but at least now Tucker had Tex to help pry Church out of his more vicious moods.

So Tucker just nodded and then complained that Church only wanted to get out of the practices now that Wash made them harder.

“I’ll come save your ungrateful asses if he sets up any more matches,” Church replied with a roll of his eyes. They hurried to get ready in the changing rooms, and judging by the Reds’ absence, they were already out on the deck. “I know you guys wouldn’t be able to win anything without me.”

“Last time I checked, I’d gotten more goals than you, dude.”

“You say that to everyone and there’s no fucking way that’s true.”

“Out of the two of us here, which one of us can actually _aim_?”

Which was why Tucker ended up running out of the change room as Church chucked a water bottle after him, shouting,

“How’s my aim now, asshole?”

Tucker jogged over to the deep tank where everyone else had gathered. They all remained sitting on the deck except for Caboose, who continually ducked beneath the surface and bobbed back up with a grin.

“Sup, guys,” Tucker greeted them. Grif offered a nod and Donut a cheerful greeting. Lopez was nowhere in sight, though Tucker thought his foot would have been healed by now. Wash glanced over from where he and Sarge stood, and Tucker’s grin widened.

Bothering Wash over text on Sunday night had provided a source of amusement that kept him awake after Junior had gone home and Tucker needed to finish his homework. With each text he received, Tucker could imagine the eye roll Wash would give in person, as well as the exasperated sighs intermixed with the dry teasing of Wash’s tone.

Wash just offered a small smile, and then asked where Church was. Tucker’s roommate walked over a moment later, giving Wash the same explanation about his impending absence he’d given Tucker on the way to the pool.

“Well,” Wash said, and he looked over at Sarge. “I guess this is perfect timing for our announcement. Sarge?”

“What?” Tucker and Church asked, and Sarge cleared his throat. He turned to face the Reds, but the message concerned all of them.

“Alright men, listen up,” Sarge began. “A few weeks back, the Blues came to me with a proposition. Now, I know you would have preferred I spit right in their lying faces and push them in the pool like they deserve!”

“Jesus Christ,” Church muttered, and Wash just shook his head when Tucker opened his mouth to speak.

“And it certainly took every last grain of my willpower not to do just that. But then, after our valiant battle against those dirty bastards on Felix’s team, they came to me with another unthinkable proposal!”

“Can I just fucking clarify that there is no ‘we’ in this?” Church interrupted. “Because I’m pretty sure it was all Wash’s fault, whatever this is.”

“He’s a Blue who speaks for all you cursed Blues!”

“Please just let him finish,” Wash told Church.

“As I was saying. He came to me with an idea that at first filled my whole being with such poisonous and horrified rage, I couldn’t even consider the very possibility! But–”

“ _But_?” Simmons and Grif echoed, everyone besides Wash shocked by Sarge’s sudden reversal and the calm logic that entered his gruff tone.

“I realized that you boys have gotten too soft! Always playing against the same Blues–why, it’s no longer a challenge for us to kick their unholy keisters into the next century! And that’s why that damn other team was able to beat all of us. I’ve been going too easy on all of you and we know the Blues at this pool too well to keep our senses sharp and our bodies’ battle ready. But–”

“I’m starting to really hate it when he says that word,” Grif said, but Sarge ignored him.

“Those good for nothings in charge of the so-called ‘official’ league say we need seven players in the pool at once, no exceptions.

“Oh no,” Grif cut in sarcastically. “I guess we’ll just have to stick with being completely mediocre and staying out of the league. Nice try, though, Sarge. We really appreciate the effort.”

“Shut your lazy piehole, Grif! I didn’t say we’re not going to join the league!”

“So, we are joining the league?” Simmons asked, frowning in confusion. Tucker glanced at the small smile starting to form on Wash’s face and felt understanding fill him.

“That’s right, Simmons. In order to get you boys back up to your full strength, we need to play against new teams and employ new tactics so we can win against even more Blues and never surrender a victory! But to do that, as much it hurts every single part of me to even think these words, we have to accept this ungrateful Blue’s proposal.”

Sarge closed his eyes for a long moment, tilting his head to the sky as if silently praying to the heavens to give him strength. He opened his eyes again, offering Wash a glare before turning to the Reds.

“We must join the Blues in order to play in this league,” Sarge said, and Church’s mouth dropped open.

“Holy fucking shit,” Church said, while the Reds went still in various states of disbelief.

“That’s…an excellent idea, sir,” Simmons replied, the first to break the silence in his effort to please Sarge. “We’ll definitely get a lot more varied experience this way.”

“I hate you,” Grif told Wash. “I hate you so much.”

“Your sister already agreed to this so–”

“When the fuck were you talking to my sister?” Grif demanded while Donut complimented Sarge’s idea and wondered at all the new people they would be meeting.

“Tucker gave me her number,” Wash said, and Grif turned his glare on Tucker. “So I could keep her updated on the team even if she comes late to practice.”

“She is a Blue, dude,” Tucker reminded Grif, and Wash shot him a grateful smile. “Heh, I guess you all are now.”

“No fucking way,” Grif snapped at the same time Wash said,

“No, we can keep our separate colour team names if we want. Sarge was very insistent about that part of the deal.”

Tucker laughed at the frown on Wash’s face, and Church shook his head beside them. Giving Wash Kai’s number had been an easy consolation for bothering him the other night, and Tucker hoped it would be one way to keep the two from offending each other accidentally with no way to resolve the issue besides using Tucker as a mouthpiece.

“Dude, relax,” Tucker told Grif. “I read the text he sent her–it was all formal shit about joining a league and how she’s a really good player but she should come in earlier, ectera ectera. All really boring shit. Now if it was _me_ –”

“Grif!” Sarge yelled. “Pay attention! So, Mr. Blue Lifeguard and I will get us all signed up for a league and as hard as this may be for you boys, we will play alongside the Blues against the other teams. But practices will be the same as always to still give us that chance to beat them senseless at the end!”

“It might take a bit of time to get us into the city one,” Wash explained. “But the first games aren’t starting until mid-November anyways, and I can always try to get more exhibition matches in the meantime.”

“Why can’t we just keep doing the occasional exhibition match and not have to try so hard?” Grif asked.

“Where is the glory in that, dirtbag?”

“It’s not like we’re gonna win any games anyways.”

“You could if you try,” Wash interjected before Sarge could start to insult Grif. “You could all play decently with improvement and it’s not like you’re completely hopeless right now.”

“Now stop your bellyaching and give me eight warmup laps!”

The Reds complied and the Blues got in after similar instructions from Wash. Caboose chattered away as they went, and Tucker wondered if they should be more concerned about him getting secondary drowning every practice.

“Upset you’re gonna miss this now?” Tucker asked Church after they finished their warm-up, and paused at the side of the pool. Church snorted.

“I’m sure you and Caboose will be more than happy to tell me all about this fucking train wreck.”

***

The second time was Simmons’ father’s fault.

After the first kiss with Grif, Simmons had been terrified Grif would try to bring it up again or act differently. Simmons had been unable to get more than few hours of sleep that night, staring at the shadows the light of Grif’s laptop cast, and then at the dark wall when Grif turned it off and went to sleep.

But Grif hadn’t brought it up in the morning or since then, and Simmons had felt fine with not offering an explanation in return. They had simply slipped back into their regular pattern of behaviour thanks to Grif’s lazy attitude, while Simmons did his best to ignore the memory. He forced himself to ignore the way such actions had given him so much comfort, and the way the kiss had let his affection for Grif warm him rather than cut him.

The second time occurred in the change room at the Blood Gulch Pool after the practice where Sarge announced they would be joining the Blues to play in a league. The others were still getting changed after the practice when Simmons’ cellphone started filling the room with its shrill notes. A single glance at the display had his eyes squeezing shut for a brief second before he pressed the answer button. He took a couple steps away from the others as they continued to chatter in a lower volume than before.

“Hey, Dad.”

He saw Grif give him a glance but he soon returned to insulting Church from across the small room. Simmons lost track of the rest of the conversation when his dad launched into full lecture mode, not needing to raise his voice above a conversational volume to get his displeasure across. He simply made sure not a single grain of warmth could be found in his voice, and that emptiness turned his words into thorns that hooked into Simmons’ exposed skin.

That time, Simmons tried to argue back, or at least interject the occasional protest. His dad didn’t budge an inch though. He insisted Simmons’ clothes were all a travesty and he would need to have his mom take him shopping for a new suit for the dinner they were hosting that night with his dad’s business partners and clients.

The insults alone would have upset Simmons, but it was the thought of the dinner that had his hand clenching around the phone and his body disrupting his digestion. For he knew dinner with them meant an evening of more adults asking just what productive things he was currently and would be doing with his life. Any compliments meant for Simmons that broke through the rest of the conversation would be brushed away by his father.

His father’s coworkers might bring their own children, too, and he still got nightmares from the last time his father attempted to set Simmons up with one of the daughters that came. Even if Simmons could have managed more than ten minutes of coherent speech around her, he knew after five minutes that they shared no common interests. Yet she and everyone else forced them to spend all evening together.

There would be no escaping the dinner though, and Simmons’ father simply told him to budget his time effectively if he had a lot of homework to do that night. He hung up before Simmons could point out the logic flaw in that, for if an assignment took him three hours to do, than it would take him three hours to do. No amount of time budgeting would mean not having to sacrifice his sleep to accommodate his schoolwork and the dinner party, which would only end once everyone’s livers had been thoroughly soaked in wine.

Simmons listened to the dial tone for a long moment as the knowledge of the shitty night ahead of him slowly spread through his body, triggering anger and anxiety as it went. When he turned back around, the change room had emptied of everyone but himself and Grif.

Grif stood there just like he always did, waiting with a sarcastic comment or listening ear. Grif opened his mouth, but Simmons didn’t want any more words scratching at his eardrums after the abuse his dad had put them through.

Simmons moved forward instead, pressing his palms against Grif’s chest. Grif’s back collided with the lockers with a loud clanging noise and Simmons kissed him.

Grif remained as pliant as the last time, but after a few seconds, he rested his hands on Simmons’ hips. For one moment, everything inside of Simmons went still, and his swirling thoughts eased into silence. For one moment, he felt comforted and safe.

For one moment, he felt capable of facing his father and everyone else who took pleasure in ripping away his self-esteem like bits of bread for consumption.

But Simmons could never keep his thoughts quiet for too long, and the knowledge of the consequences he could face for what he was choosing to do slammed back into him. Grif’s hands slid away when Simmons pulled away after less than a moment, and Simmons tried to ignore how much he wished Grif’s hands would have stayed in place. He caught a glimpse of Grif’s wide gaze before Simmons looked down, unable to hold the stare when Grif remained so quiet.

Simmons swallowed, but even if he had been able to formulate coherent words amidst the panic, he feared starting any form of conversation would trigger Grif’s complete rejection. So Simmons kept his gaze down as he shoved his things in his bag, and tried to ignore the way the silence slammed against his ears.

Simmons didn’t look back when he walked out of the change room and for once, Grif didn’t follow.

***

Church sat on the floor of his apartment, the couch at his back and his computer in front of him. Tex lounged on the couch, tapping away at her Blackberry while Church leaned down to scowl at one of his textbooks. His phone went off with a chime and his scowl deepened when he saw it came from the Director.   

Feet obscured his vision as Tex shoved her cold ones into his face. He pushed them away with a barely contained shriek of surprise and disgust. Tex didn’t say anything, just kept dangling them over his shoulders and jabbing him with her toes with a grin. He gave up only a few seconds later, reaching up to begin a foot rub with a curse in her direction.

Church’s phone kept going off with texts from the Director, and they were all very similar to the usual “I hope you are actually doing things with your life” texts the Director sent him throughout the weeks.

Yet every time Church looked at one that day, something about them reminded him of his childhood with the Director and when the man started to grow colder. And Church knew rationally the Director wouldn’t ever hurt him as he had hurt that stranger Church had seen. Rationally, Church knew he was a legal adult at that point, with his own place and own life that the Director couldn’t as easily control as he could when Church was a child. Even when the Director made requests and demands, Church could argue back and snap at him as well as agree to his requests.

Even so, every time Church argued or snapped back, he couldn’t help but feel like he was that little boy again, powerless to do anything but stare at the blood on the monster the Director had become. Most days, Church could ignore that feeling, and he prided himself on it.

Other days, the feeling hooked iron claws into every part of his insides, and it became impossible to force the claws to unclasp without ripping off chunks of Church himself. On those days, the only solution was to simply bear with it as he waited for the claws to loosen on their own and the feeling to pass.

The sudden call of his name jolted Church from his thoughts, and he realized he’d stopped rubbing Tex’s feet, though he couldn’t remember when exactly he had stopped.

Then her hands were pressing against the side of his face and tilting his head back. Her hair tickled his face, but she didn’t kiss him. His phone went off again, but her hands only held on tighter. All Church could do was gaze up at her face as her quiet breath warmed his own face. The colour of her eyes, the lashes that brushed her cheeks when she blinked, the curve of her nose and cheeks; all of it slowly shoved the Director’s messages out of his mind.

Suddenly it wasn’t enough. Church grabbed his phone to turn the sound off before he climbed up onto the couch with Tex.

Tex smirked and he leaned forward to kiss her. She allowed it for a few moments, hands slipping under the hem of his shirt but moving no further than his hips. Then she pulled back and tugged him into the position she wanted, which was both of them lying on the couch with his head on her chest. She kept running slow fingers through his short hair, no doubt doing her best to make it as messy as possible, and Church just listened to her heart beating beneath him.

In the silence filled only with the vibration of Tex’s Blackberry and her quiet humming, Church had the sudden realization that he could easily become the Director if he lost Tex just as the Director had lost Allison.

“Church?”

Church blinked. The hand he had been resting by Tex’s wrist now wrapped around it. His fingers dug into the skin where her pulse was, as if trying to pull out the beating vein and prove she still lived.

Tex uncurled his fingers and then tangled their hands together.

“Hey, Tex,” Church blurted. “You’re not gonna join the army, right?”

She raised an eyebrow at that.

“Pretty sure I would have mentioned that if I was. You’re not planning on becoming a manipulative bastard who traumatizes his children, are you?”

He swallowed his swearing, because of course she had seen through the reference immediately.

“I could turn into him,” Church said, for once not in the mood to deflect or bullshit. “Really easily.”

“Well you do share some genetics.”

“Right and–”

“But,” She interrupted, “there is a very important difference between the two of you. He’s a manipulative bastard. You, Church, are an asshole.”

“I could still turn into a monster like him,” Church said, the thought tearing at his brain and latching onto the nerves under his skin.

“Everyone is capable of turning into a monster, Church.”

She flicked his forehead and he scowled up at her. Tex just laughed, returning to her earlier task of playing with his hair while her other hand remained locked in his.

“I guess you’d just destroy me if that happened,” he finally said.

“Like a mother fucking boss battle,” she agreed.

They both fell quiet after that. The apartment remained relatively silent, for Tucker had class until nine at night on Mondays. Church didn’t know how much time passed with them remaining in the same position, but he eventually closed his eyes and drifted into a state of semi-consciousness.

“Okay,” Tex said awhile later. “I gotta go.”

She pushed at his shoulders, and he reluctantly moved into a sitting position. She swung her legs over the side of the couch and then got to her feet. Church watched her move about the apartment as she gathered her things and grabbed her coat.

“Where are you going again?”

“Sushi,” Tex said. “With some classmates. How many times have you asked that question?”

“That was only the second fucking time.”

“You sure?”

“Bye, Tex.”

She offered a small smile and then left the apartment with a wave. Tex headed down the stairs and out of the apartment at a brisk pace, catching a bus within five minutes. The bus slowly rumbled along, seeming to hit every pothole as it went. Tex glanced around when she got off at an empty looking plaza, and then headed across the parking lot to the small sushi restaurant crammed between a hair salon and dollar store.

Only three tables were occupied despite the time nearing six at night. A server headed toward her, and when Tex told her she was with a friend, the lady just smiled and showed her over to one of the occupied booths in the corner of the restaurant.

Connie glanced up and offered a smile when Tex took a seat across from her. The girl rested her elbows on the table as she studied the menu and tapped a pencil on her cheek. A server arrived and placed a pot of tea on their table, both of them offering her quiet gratitude before Connie began to pour for both of them.

“A sushi place?” Tex asked once Connie finished. Tex had been expecting something like a coffee shop for their meeting, and Connie’s suggestion and directions for the small sushi place had shattered that presumption quickly.

Connie shrugged.

“Nobody in the Director’s family seems to like sushi,” Connie explained. “Well, I know Carolina and the Director don’t.”

“Church hates it too,” Tex said. When she told him where she was going the first time, he had scrunched up his face and asked why she would ever want to eat something raw.

“Right, so there’s no chance they’ll show up.” Connie ripped open the paper the chopsticks were in and pulled them apart. “Plus, I really love sushi so Chris and I come here a lot.”

Tex just nodded at the addition of more personal information, but they agreed to put in an order before they discussed the reason for meeting. Once they had listed all the items they wanted and a server came to take away the menu, Tex leaned back and waited for Connie to explain.

Connie fiddled with her chopsticks for a moment and then sighed. She looked up to meet Tex’s gaze.

“Do you like the Director?” she blurted.

“Is that relevant?”

“Since I’m about to accuse him of a bunch of shitty stuff, yeah.”

“As an employee, I’m apathetic to him.”

“And as the girlfriend of his nephew?” Connie pressed. The image of Church’s facial expression earlier that afternoon materialized in her mind and her words echoed alongside it, but Tex didn’t allow herself to react.

“Get to your point, Connie.”

The arrival of the dumplings interrupted her answer, and each of them put one onto their plate.

“All of those accidents that have been happening at the pool recently?” Connie said after taking a bite of her dumpling. “The slide breaking, the gas leak–the Director did all of that.”

Tex lowered the dumpling she’d been about to bite into and stared.

“You think he did that?”

“Him and the Counsellor.”

Tex frowned, but Connie didn’t allow her to interrupt. “Think about it. You know how fucking particular the Director is about paperwork and everything functioning and all of us being up to his ridiculous standards. So how is it that a man like that would allow the slide to break like that? How is it that _Carolina_ would miss it being on the verge of breaking?”

“And the gas leak?”

“Why was Wyoming even in the boiler room in the first place? None of us go in there unless there’s a pool fouling. He wouldn’t have gone in there unless someone told him to go in.”

“And the Counsellor was working that day, so you think he told him? How does that prove the gas leak was on purpose?”

“It doesn’t necessarily. But why get Wyoming to go into the boiler room when he doesn’t know the place as well as the Counsellor and Wyoming was supposed to be guarding? When has the Counsellor ever asked one of us to go in there? And the Counsellor seems like the type of person to notice something was wrong long before it reached the point of a gas leak.”

“Have you told Carolina about this?” Tex asked after a pause rather than address Connie’s points right away.

“Did you tell Church you were meeting me here?” Connie replied without pause.

Tex almost smirked at that as she studied the girl. Connie, she realized, possessed the type of friendliness everyone mistook for an eternal patience for everyone’s bullshit. They looked at it and saw only a passivity they could use to their advantage.

Until she slipped a knife between their ribcage while they were sleeping.

Tex allowed her silence to answer Connie’s question, and Connie’s shoulders loosened a little.

“Did I tell Carolina I think her dad has been purposefully sabotaging the pool and putting her coworkers in danger in order to test her and make sure she can handle her career choice?” Connie laughed and the bitterness scraped at Tex’s ears. “No. I didn’t.”

“You think he’s doing this because of her?” Tex asked.

Some of the sushi arrived, and Tex waited while Connie chewed on a piece as she thought about her answer.

“I can’t really prove this one as well as I could the others,” Connie began. The words came out in little bursts with several pauses between, but she kept a steady gaze on Tex the whole time. “You know about Carolina’s mom, right?”

“Allison,” Tex replied.

She knew a lot of things about Allison thanks to Church. Tex had seen pictures of the dead woman in both her military uniform and in civilian clothes when she posed in pictures with her family. Church had been in many of them, a scowl on his face in some of them even then. Tex had laughed when she saw it, teasing him for it and asking if he’d been born with a scowl on his face. That simply made him scowl more, and made her amusement grow.

Tex knew how the woman had died, and how it haunted the remaining family members. She knew they had been the family Church loved, more than the parents who left him repeatedly to go traveling and thought raising a child simply meant providing them with enough money to make it through.

In a way, Church had been lucky, and the similarities between their childhoods was one of the things that shifted Tex’s initial interest from a lighter one fueled by amusement, to the possibility of a deeper connection founded on mutual hardship. For her own parents disappeared often when she grew up, leaving her with a wide assortment of nannies to raise her. As she grew older, the differing nannies and babysitters became less and less interested in actually paying her any attention. The time she was left alone without any of them grew from an hour before and after school, to a couple hours, then to a whole night, and then to days.

Tex didn’t have an uncle and aunt like Church. Instead, she had a grandmother who showed up one week in grade 7 after Tex hadn’t seen any babysitter for at least a week. The woman blew into the house accompanied by coarse language and an independent attitude. She taught Tex how to clean the house, how to do laundry, how to go grocery shopping, and how to budget the money her parents sent her. She took Tex to the dentist and the doctor all in the same day for a check-up, and then moved on to Tex’s academics.

She kept Tex from starving in the absence of her parents, but even she didn’t live with Tex regularly.

“Allison died,” Tex said when Connie continued to remain quiet and Tex dragged herself from her thoughts. “While on tour.”

“Right,” Connie said. “And now Carolina wants to join the RCMP.”

“That’s not the army,” Tex argued with a frown.

Connie reached into her bag and pulled out a folded newspaper clipping. She unfolded it on the table and let Tex read the headline. The date of the article was from last week and it discussed the shooting of an RCMP officer during a routine license place check.

“RCMP officers die, Tex,” Connie said quietly. “Sometimes without any warning, when they thought they were safe. It’s not the army, but it’s still a place she’s gonna get shot at and be put in dangerous situations, just like Allison was. Do you honestly think the Director would just let Carolina join up without having any kind of plan or element of control after what happened with Allison?”

“So you think it’s a test.”

Tex didn’t want to believe it, and the words were heavy in her mouth. She knew how much control the Director still tried to exercise over Church alone, and Tex had heard him speak to Carolina about her skills and work at the pool. She knew Allison was still a presence within that home, memories of her watching the living from the corners and her voice trapped within the study.

In a way, Connie’s explanation held merit.

“All of the incidents have happened when Carolina was in-charge,” Connie said. “I know you’ve dealt with some stuff and you were both there for the slide. But the gas leak? The smaller shit that happened during the summer? Carolina was always present and as the deck supervisor, it was always her abilities that would have been tested.”

“Is that all?” Tex asked, and Connie shook her head. Tex poured herself another cup of tea and then took some more sushi as Connie spoke again.

“I’m pretty sure he’s getting a lot of his money illegally but I’m not sure how. Possibly the city funds, and I think he has other, less legitimate businesses.”

“So you want to prove all of this and get him fired?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

 Connie sighed, and for the first time, looked away from Tex’s gaze.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I took some files off his computer before I quit. I figured he must have some notes and paperwork about the maintenance of the pool. Looking at his emails might help too.”

“You hacked his computer?”

“One of Chris’ friends is in computer software,” Connie said with a shrug. “She’s pretty smart.”

“Does Chris know what you’re doing?”

“Not exactly. He knows how much I hated the Director and that I don’t think he’s working completely inside the law, but I haven’t told him the details yet.” Connie met her gaze again. “Are you going to tell Church about this?”

“Not yet,” Tex said, thinking once more of his state that afternoon and of the nightmares that still plagued him. “Not until we have definite proof and some sort of plan figured out.”

“So you believe me? You’ll help?”

The mask Connie wore was imperfect, for she couldn’t keep her eyes from widening a fraction in surprise, and hints of uncertainty snuck into her voice without her permission. Tex nodded.

“We don’t need any more injuries,” Tex said. “And it’s worth looking into.”

The plates on their table were empty, but neither of them moved to fill out another menu to order a second round. Connie pushed her plate away so she could prop her elbows on the surface of the table.

“Okay, so do you have any ideas?”

“Do nothing.”

“What?” Connie stared at her and Tex allowed a moment of silence to collect her thoughts before elaborating.

“You shouldn’t be doing anything about it right now. Not after you just quit. I’m assuming you didn’t tell him why since you weren’t clear with Carolina and I?”

“No.”

“Good. But even so, the Director’s not stupid, and neither is the Counsellor. If they really are pulling this shit, they’ll be on guard for a while since you just quit. You can’t go near the pool for a while, and I can’t snoop around so soon after.”

“So, we just wait?”

“For now. Let them think everything is normal. Lull them into a false security. I’m sure your classes are getting busy right now anyways, and you can go through those files you pulled in the meantime.”

Connie nodded slowly.

“That’s true.”

A server arrived to ask if they were done, and Connie told them they were after a glance from Tex. They got up and headed to the cash register to pay after receiving the bill. After paying, they stopped in the entrance of the restaurant.

“I’ll keep an eye on the others and see if any of them would be open to this,” Tex said. “Keep me updated about the files.”

“Don’t bring Wash into this,” Connie said before Tex could turn to go.

“You mean tell him about this or–”

“No, his hours.”

Tex had thought the lifeguard was receiving too many hours, but when she had pointed it out to Carolina when they first started working, the lifeguard had simply said the Director approved it. Tex hadn’t asked about it again, and all the lifeguards seemed to work a lot more hours than one normally might at a part-time job.

“I don’t really think it’s legal,” Connie explained. “Not without being paid over-time or without getting an agreement approved. But he needs the hours and I don’t want to fuck him over.”

“If we get the Director fired, he’s gonna get fucked over regardless,” Tex told her, and Connie hunched her shoulders.

“I know that but I just–I want to let him have it for as long as we can. Chris has been helping me look for other part-time jobs for him for when it goes to hell. But before that–”

“Got it,” Tex said, and Connie offered her a smile.

Both of them wanted to keep the collateral damage from the inevitable implosion as minimal as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend asked about Vic in this verse, so we now have Vic as one of the cashiers. 
> 
> Also, my wonderful friend drew the Grimmons kiss from this chapter here:  
> http://captaindextersimmons.tumblr.com/post/117821731090/i-was-mad-inspired-by-the-latest-grimmons-scene-in
> 
> (I still don't know how to insert links oops). I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t fucking touch me!” Epsilon snapped. He drew his legs from the water and up to his chest in the time it took for Wash to blink.

Wash’s new student in the second session occurred halfway through the morning in place of the group lesson he had before Junior’s lesson the session before. On the first day, Wash looked for Vanessa Kimball and the other privates as he called Epsilon’s name; he assumed Epsilon was connected to the other children taking private lessons. He spotted Vanessa on one of the far benches speaking to a sullen looking Omega and a frowning Delta while an older boy stood by her shoulder. The other private lesson students were nowhere in sight.

Wash called Epsilon’s name again, and a young boy on the bench closest to the guard room glanced up at him. Wash offered the boy a reassuring smile and headed over when the boy didn’t look away. He remained unsmiling at Wash’s approach, the boy’s shoulders hunching more and more with each step Wash took.

“Are you Epsilon?” Wash asked. He glanced over to Vanessa, but she appeared distracted by whatever angry words Omega spat at her.

“Hey,” a voice called to Wash, and he turned to see the older boy who’d been standing by Kimball smiling at Wash. “Are you Epsilon’s instructor.”

“Uh, yes.”

“I’m Andersmith. I’m helping out Ms. Kimball. Nice to meet you.” He turned to the boy sitting on the bench. “Have fun and do your best, Epsilon.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Epsilon muttered. “Go tell someone who gives a shit.”

“Language,” Andersmith said before giving Wash another smile and walking away.

“Okay, well I’m Wash,” Wash introduced himself into the following silence. “I’ll be your instructor this session. Do you know what level you’re supposed to be in?”

“Of course,” Epsilon said. The boy glanced up to give Wash a glare, muscles tensing as if preparing for a blow. He grabbed the report card that had been on the bench and shoved it toward Wash with one hand.

Wash took the report card with a word of gratitude and then flipped through it. The last completed level was level four with two incomplete sheets already attached to level five. He quickly scanned the comments that stated Epsilon still needed to work on his whip kick before turning back to the twelveyear old boy.

Epsilon was in the middle of shoving an item beneath his towel. When Wash asked about it, Epsilon snapped that it was none of his fucking business.

“Sorry,” Wash said, trying not to let his hesitation over the boy’s sullen behaviour show.

He knew Tex’s private had been hostile and angry, but something in Epsilon’s eyes when he scowled and his tense body posture made it seem of a more defensive sentiment than anger.

“Let’s start by the shallow end on the side of the deck,” Wash said.

They sat side by side on the pool deck as Wash reviewed whip kick with Epsilon. His past instructor’s comments stated the boy had seemed capable in his attempts, but he had barely gone to half of his lessons and so he never had the time to make the appropriate improvements.

When Wash got Epsilon to do the whip kick motion repeatedly with his legs hanging over the side, Wash spotted the scissor kick his previous instructors had noted.

Wash hopped into the water and told Epsilon to keep going. Water splashed at Wash’s hips as the boy kicked harder than necessary,but Wash chose to ignore any potential negative intention and focus on the motion of Epsilon’s kick.

“Okay, you’re doing a bit of a scissor kick,” Wash explained as he stepped closer to Epsilon. “So let me grab your ankles and–”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Epsilon snapped. He drew his legs from the water and up to his chest in the time it took for Wash to blink.

“Whoa, okay,” Wash said. He put up his hands in a sign of surrender and took a large step back. Epsilon glared at him from the pool deck, fingers digging into his scraped shins. “If you don’t want me to touch you then I won’t. I wanted to show you the proper way to kick versus what you’re doing, but I can just demonstrate it for you instead. Does that work?”

Epsilon glared at him for a few seconds before his shoulders slumped and he slowly uncurled from himself.

“Fine,” Epsilon said. Wash climbed back out, keeping a solid few inches of space between them. His heart continued to race a little from Epsilon’s unexpected outburst, but the familiarity of the pool setting kept his thoughts calm and focused on the next logical steps for the lesson.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked first if it was okay,” Wash added before continuing. Epsilon glanced over at him, lips parting in surprise and hostility briefly bleeding from his face. “Now–”

Wash directed Epsilon’s attention back to the stroke, showing him first what Epsilon was doing and then what he needed to do. He explained the dynamics as he went, nodding and verbalizing his approval when Epsilon improved. After he seemed to be getting better on the wall and looked ready to get into the water,Wash moved on to laps.

The boy had a smart comment for every instruction Wash gave in a way that reminded Wash of Church. But whereas Church supported his sarcasm and smartass comments with body language oozing arrogant confidence, Epsilon continued to keep a safe distance from Wash, and held himself as if always on the verge of fleeing the vicinity.

They did half a lap before Wash halted Epsilon. Wash stopped himself from reaching out to tap the kid’s shoulder like he normally would, instead calling his name repeatedly. Wash gave him a noodle bit usually used for arm strengthening in aquafit to keep between his legs while he practiced whip kick.

“It’s going to be really slow going at first, so don’t worry if you’re not moving fast,” Wash told him, and they started swimming.

Epsilon didn’t improve much on that stroke, Wash stopping him each half lap to give the boy feedback. Each time he did, Epsilon curled against the wall like he thought Wash was going to yell or taunt him for his mistakes.

“I know it’s frustrating,” Wash said, doing his best to keep his tone as reassuring as possible as Epsilon clung to the shallow end wall. “But everyone has a stroke that takes them awhile and we just have to keep trying.”

When Epsilon gave him a skeptical look, Wash added,“In fact, when I was a kid, I incompleted level 5 five times.”

Epsilon snorted before saying, “Yeah fucking right.”

“You think I’m lying?”

“I think you’re trying to cheer me up or whatever. You’re a lifeguard, obviously you’re not gonna be bad at swimming.”

“Sure, but lifeguards aren’t born with gills and fins. We have to learn how to swim and some of us aren’t good at it at first.”

“Maybe you just suck,” Epsilon shot back, but his grip on the edge loosened a fraction.

They moved on to another stroke and Wash attempted to be as friendly as possible in his eagerness while respecting Epsilon’s no touching rule. The boy seemed less likely to lash out at Wash by the end, and when Wash said goodbye and good work to him with a smile, the boy stared.

“You’re fucking weird,” Epsilon finally said, but the confusion in his voicelessened the insult in the statement.

Epsilon walked away before Wash could reply, grabbing his towel and the small item buried there. This time Vanessa waited for him, leading him back to the other boys where Andersmith spoke with them. Wash only had time to notice the way Epsilon climbed up to the benches furthest away from the others despite the smile Theta gave him, and then Wash hurried to the guard room where Tex waited.

***

It took twenty minutes of coaxing, ten minutes of crying, and three promises of bribery before Junior finally agreed to try doing his swimming lesson without Tucker in the water. Knowing York a little better now and getting him again helped with that, and Tucker promised for the first day he would sit on the edge of the pool rather than on the benches. So when it came time for York to lead all of the young children in, Tucker sat cross-legged on the edge where the lesson would take place.

It didn’t take very long for Tucker to realize the session would not run nearly as smoothly as the last one. Two of the children in the lesson that time were absolute nightmares, and forced York to spend more time disciplining them than teaching the actual lesson. One of the children listened once York gave him the second time-out, but one of the girls continued to scream and splash water the entire time.

“Aw fuck,” Tucker muttered to himself as he watched Junior cling to the wall far away from the girl screaming in York’s face.

The second the lesson ended, Junior raced into Tucker’s lap and refused to let go of his neck as Tucker climbed to his feet.

“You were really brave today, Junior,” Tucker told him as he carried his son over to the benches. “And your floats looked awesome.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Were the other kids scary?”

Junior nodded and Tucker fought back the urge to curse. Instead, he wrapped Junior in his frog towel and gave him a smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure York will figure out a way to make everyone be really nice next week. Okay?”

Junior gave a small nod after a long pause and Tucker prayed his words would come true for Junior’s sake.

***

On the first day of lessons for the new session, Carolina was on deck at exactly 12:30pmcalling out the names of the students in her private lesson. There were two children aged ten years old according to her sheet, names Eta and Iota. Based on the names, Carolina assumed they would be brought in by Vanessa Kimball, and York had informed her that Wash’s kid had been one of the children the woman babysat.

“Eta and Iota?” Carolina called out.

In the pool, Wash, Maine, and Wyoming still taught swimming lessons. North and York were on deck clean-up, putting all of the lifejackets and flutterboards away before the afternoon rec swim. Tex was the deck supervisor for Saturday mornings that session, which meant Carolina didn’t start working until her private lessons, and would be the deck supervisor after they finished.

Carolina looked over to the benches where she could see some of Vanessa Kimball’s other children sitting. An older girl spoke with two that Carolina hadn’t seen before, and Vanessa herself headed over to Carolina.

“Hi, are you Eta and Iota’s instructor?” she asked, and Carolina offered her a polite smile.

“Yes, I’m Carolina.”

“Okay, before they start their lesson, I needed to clarify that they were registered under the wrong information,” Vanessa said. “I’m really sorry about that. They just started socially transitioning a couple months ago and their parents are still trying to get everything corrected so the city didn’t receive the right information when they were registered.”

“The right information,” Carolina repeated.

“Right, they were registered as boys,” Vanessa clarified. Carolina glanced down at her attendance sheet to where each of the twins’ gender had been marked with an ‘m’ for male. “But they should have both been registered as girls.”

Carolina looked up at her and then glanced over Vanessa’s shoulder to where she could see the two children still speaking with the older girl. They both wore faded t-shirts and swim skorts, their thin, black hair hanging to their shoulders.

Carolina’s gaze went back down to her incorrect sheet and then once more to Vanessa’ face. The woman continued to wear a calm expression, but her body shifted into a defiant stiffness the longer the conversation lasted.

“Thank you for telling me,” Carolina said, and pulled out her pen and the attendance sheet from the plastic bag she carried them in. “I’ll change that right away.”

Vanessa’s shoulders relaxed, and she offered Carolina a smile while Carolina neatly crossed out both of the ‘m’s and wrote ‘f’ beside them.

“Excellent, they’re very excited to meet you after everything the other children have said.” Vanessa turned back around. “Girls? Time to start. Give Katie your towels.”

The two girls handed Katie their towels, one of them offering the older girl a hug before following her twin over to Carolina.

“Hello,” they chorused to Carolina as soon as they reached her, staring up at her curiously.

They held each other’s hand as they introduced themselves, and Carolina initially found it hard to differentiate between them. Apart from their different heights, the twins looked completely identical. Their facial features, long hair, and stocky builds made it hard to tell who was who, and Carolina found herself grateful that they were wearing different coloured bathing suits.

“Hi, girls,” Carolina greeted them. “My name’s Carolina and I’ll be your swimming instructor for the session. Do you remember what level you’re in?”

They both replied level three,and Vanessa handed Carolina their old report cards before returning to the other children. Eta asked Carolina why she needed the report cards, and Carolina answered as she quickly skimmed the last instructor’s comments. _Difficulty focusing_ was an often repeated phrase, and Carolina shoved them into the plastic bag when she was done.

“Alright, we’re going to start in the shallow end today,” Carolina told them.

The second they started to head toward the shallow end, Iota pressed close to Carolina’s side and grabbed her hand. When Carolina glanced down at her with a questioning gaze, Iota just beamed up at her.

“Who has to be in the pool before you two can get in?” Carolina asked once they reached the edge of the shallow end.

“You!” The girls shouted together. Carolina offered them a small smile as she told them they were correct. Then she turned around slightly so she could slip into the pool.

The second her feet touched the bottom of the pool, arms slipped around Carolina’s neck and legs wrapped around her waist. One of the girls’ giggled, and Carolina craned her head to see Eta still standing on the ledge in her yellow bathing suit.

“Iota?” Carolina asked, staying still while the girl draped over her continued to laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Saying hi!”

Before Carolina could ask her for elaboration or tell her off, Eta began to tug at her elbow after slipping into the water beside her.

“Miss. Carolina, Miss. Carolina. Why is that your name?”

“My parents liked that name.”

“Why?”

“They like the state.”

“Why?”

“How about I tell you after the lesson,” Carolina said, and then reached up to grip Iota’s wrists. “Okay, Iota, you’ve said hi. Now we have to do our swimming.”

Iota groaned, but slid off as Carolina asked. She joined her sister by the wall, and waited for Carolina’s instructions.

With each passing minute in the lesson, Carolina better understood the comments from past instructors. Eta asked questions about everything they did, though they weren’t always specifically about the drill they were doing. Sometimes she stopped in the middle of a lap or practice to blurt a question, eyes going wide with the possibility inherent in her questions.

 Whenever it was Eta’s turn to do something, Iota would invariablyengage in some display of physical affection with Carolina or her twin, even if Carolina gave her a separate task to do in the meantime. Either Iota would splash over to give Carolina a hug from behind, or she would attempt to grab her sister with an affectionate grin.

Even after Carolina instilled a no touching rule while the other was doing their swimming on pain of a time-out, Iota bounced and flailed about with an abundance of excited energy.

Neither were horrible swimmers, but they would never improve with their inability to focus for longer than three minutes.

When the lesson came to an end, neither girl seemed particularly bothered by the fact that both had to have a time-out, though they had put on the best kicked-puppy look while it happened. Iota once more gave Carolina as big a hug as she could manage, wrapping her small arms around Carolina’s waist and beaming up at her. Eta didn’t offer a hug, but she smiled just as brightly as her twin, and then held her twin’s hand as they skipped back over to Vanessa and the other children.

Carolina just continued staring at the computer screen when York asked her how the lesson went.

***

The closer they got to Wash’s place, the more hesitant Junior became. By the time Tucker could see the duplex, Junior was clinging to Tucker’s legs and attempting to hide behind them. Tucker sent a quick text to Wash that they were almost there before crouching down to reach eye level with his son.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong, Junior?” Tucker asked softly. Junior wouldn’t look at him, just shook his head instead. “Do you remember where we’re going?”

“Wash’s.” The voice went no higher than a whisper, and Tucker moved a little closer.

“Do you remember who Wash is?”

A nod.

“Okay.” Tucker studied Junior’s round face. “I thought you wanted to visit his place. You were really excited last week in the car, remember?”

Another nod.

“So what’s the problem, buddy?” Junior remained quiet and Tucker bit back his sigh. “Do you wanna go home?”

Junior shook his head.

“Okay.”

Tucker rocked back on his heels. He knew how shy Junior got around new people, but Tucker had thought his excitement last week meant he wouldn’t have this issue. Especially since a week wasn’t long enough for Junior to forget who Wash was. Then again, after the incident with all the screaming children in Junior’s lesson that morning and given that Junior didn’t get nearly as much sleep as normal the night before, his sudden hesitation made a little more sense.

“You want me to carry you?” Tucker asked.

A pause, and then Junior nodded. Tucker scooped him into his arms, and Junior instantly wrapped his arms around Tucker’s neck. The straps of Tucker’s bag bit into his shoulders but he ignored them, shifting Junior a little so he rested more comfortably on Tucker’s hip. Then he finished the walk to the front entrance of Wash’s duplex, bouncing Junior as much as he could to cheer him up.

Wash opened the door with a smile for both of them, but Junior hid his face in Tucker’s neck at the sight. Tucker stepped inside the entrance way with a mouthed apology before following Wash into the first floor unit.

“He’s feeling a bit shy today,” Tucker explained as Wash closed the door. “He didn’t get much sleep so he might be a bit cranky, and his lesson wasn’t amazing.

Wash offered a smile and his understanding as Tucker looked around.

Immediately to their left stretched a long hallway that led to the bedroom and bathroom. The living room opened up in front of them; a square room with a faded blue couch, small TV, and glass doors leading to a small patio. The room held little decoration, though a small table leaned against the left wall and Tucker could see picture frames resting on it. Two bookshelves bracketed the TV, and all their shelves were full.

The doorway to the kitchen stood on their right, and Tucker caught a glimpse of fur before Wash’s voice pulled him back to the current room.

“–find the place okay?” Wash finished asking, and took their coats from them to put into the closet beside the long hallway.

“Yeah, no worries. Your directions were more detailed than Google maps.”

“Most people get lost at least twice before they can make it here without directions,” Wash replied, and Tucker shook his head.

“Also, white carpet?”

“It’s cream.”

“Whatever, it’s still a really nice shade that is gonna get ruined within an hour by any university student _and_ any children you invite over.”

Wash rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, dude.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” He turned his gaze on Junior who still kept his face hidden. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Junior, don’t you want to say hi?” Tucker asked, and his son just stayed still. “Come on, buddy. Wash really wanted to play with you.”

Before he could continue his attempts at coaxing Junior out of his shyness, something brushed Tucker’s leg. He bit back a yelp as his gaze shot down to the floor. Green eyes blinked back at him, and the grey tabby cat yawned at him.

“That’s Mimi,” Wash said, and Tucker glanced at him.

“Mimi? Really?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Wash demanded, a little bit of red colouring his cheeks. Tucker grinned. “And anyways, Connie named her.”

“Hey, Junior, look at this,” Tucker whispered, leaning down to scratch the cat’s head. “The cats came to say hi.”

Without loosening his grip around Tucker’s neck, Junior slowly turned his head away from Tucker’s neck. He moved his gaze downward and his eyes widened at the sight of the cat staring up at them.

“Kitty!” he shouted, and the startled cat dashed over to the couch for safety. Junior reached his hands toward her and Tucker swore as Junior nearly tumbled from his arms in the child’s sudden enthusiasm.

“Would you like to say hi to her, Junior?” Wash asked, and Junior nodded his head as fast as he could without taking his eyes off Mimi.

Wash smiled and then headed over to where Mimi watched them. He leaned down and whispered softly to his cat before lifting her into his arms. Wash carried her back over, and her compliancy impressed Tucker. She seemed to narrow her eyes at Junior, but she didn’t try to scramble out of Wash’s grip or lash out at any of them.

“Mimi’s the friendliest,” Wash explained, and Junior stretched toward her with a whine. “Just don’t touch her face, okay, Junior?”

Tucker shifted closer so Junior could rest his hand on the top of Mimi’s head.

“Gentle, Junior,” Tucker reminded him as Junior pressed his hand down and petted her. “As nicely as you’d want someone to touch your head.”

“Good, kitty,” Junior said, and repeated the petting motion. “Nice, kitty.”

A smile began to grow on Junior’s face as his fingers continued to sink into Mimi’s soft fur. Mimi stayed calm and content in Wash’s arms, offering the occasional purr in return for the touch.

“Wanna play?” Junior asked her.

“Junior, who do we have to ask as well?”

There was a pause, but rather than retreat into his earlier shyness, Junior finally met Wash’s gaze.

“Can I play with the kitty?” He glanced at Tucker and then added, “please?”

“Yeah, go ahead, Junior.” Wash set her down and Tucker imitated the motion with Junior. “Just don’t hurt her, okay?”

Mimi only stood still for a few seconds and then she turned to stalk toward the kitchen. Junior shot after her on his hands and knees, shouting her name and “kitty” as he went. Tucker grinned even as the image of the tantrum Junior might throw when they had to leave popped into his head.

“He’s never going to want to leave,” Tucker warned Wash. “And I am blaming you one hundred percent.”

“Shouldn’t you blame the cats?”

“Nah, Mimi’s too cute to blame.”

Wash’s lips twitched and he shook his head.

“There’s no way for me to argue against that.”

“Exactly.”

Junior’s delighted shriek cut off Wash’s reply and they both winced a little at the volume of the sound. They headed into the room and found Junior sitting in the middle of the room with cat food scattered all around him. One of Junior’s hands clutched at the bits of cat food and held it out to Mimi who stood a foot away.

Another cat had joined Mimi on the floor, its shaggy, orange fur much thicker looking than Mimi’s. On top of the kitchen counter, a white cat watched the scene below, hunching its smaller body away from the action.

“The orange one is Furbomb,” Wash said without a hint of a joke in his voice. “Maine named him. The one on the counter is Cyndi but she’s just a kitten and very shy.”

“Junior, what did you do to the food?” Tucker asked, grateful the kitchen had a tiled floor rather than carpet. He was pretty sure Junior had set a new record for how fast he could create a mess.

“Sharing it with the kitties,” Junior said, and stretched out his hand further toward Mimi. “They’re hungry.”

Cyndi gave a sudden meow and then leapt down from the counter and sprinted out of the kitchen. Everyone but Junior watched her go, and Junior simply scooted closer to Mimi.

“She’ll probably go hide with Dennis,” Wash said, and Tucker gaped at him.

“You have _four_ cats?”

“Yes?”

“Oh my god, you’re the fucking male version of the crazy cat lady.” Tucker shook his head, watching Junior grin as Mimi rubbed her cheek against Junior’s hand. “Have fun living alone with them.”

“Junior will visit me,” Wash pointed out, and Tucker couldn’t argue against that when Junior looked so happy at the moment. Nor did he want to argue against anything that made his kid so thrilled.

As they watched, Furbomb made his way toward Junior. Without any form of warning, he walked right into Junior’s lap and then lifted his paws to Junior’s chest. The boy tilted backwards and toppled onto his back with a loud giggle. Once Junior had been flattened, Furbomb took another couple steps and then stretched his body across Junior’s.

Tucker’s mouth hung open and even Wash seemed a little surprise as Furbomb simply closed his eyes, content with his current napping position. Junior threw his arms out like he was a starfish and started laughing.

“I wanna live here _forever_!” he declared in between his bursts of joyed laughter. Tucker turned to Wash with an accusatory glare, but he couldn’t keep the corners of his lips from turning up and lacing his tone with teasing notes.

“Blaming you. A hundred percent.”

At that point, Wash offered to show Tucker around despite the small quarters, which Tucker instantly began to tease him for. But Tucker went along with it anyways, if only because he was curious to see if Wash’s dorkiness extended to the decoration of his bedroom.

The entire unit was fairly clean beyond the cat hair, though even that seemed less of an issue than Tucker expected. Wash explained that he vacuumed often, though many of his friends were still unable to come over often. South and Maine both had allergies, and so that was part of why Wash didn’t room with them or host the staff parties.

“That, and cuz you have a fucking white carpet,” Tucker added. Wash rolled his eyes at that, and continued down the hall.

Wash’s bedroom was just as organized and clean as the rest of the house, which really shouldn’t have surprised Tucker. A pile of textbooks sitting beside Wash’s desk at the foot of his bookshelf was about the messiest thing, only because some of the textbooks spilled off the pile and onto the floor. His double bed had a black comforter and contained far too many pillows for one person.

A small window sat above the bed, and Wash’s desk sat across from the end of the bed. The closet door remained closed and Wash’s dresser neatly cleared of any clutter. The walls were a pale shade of white, but the posters along it made up for the starkness. Several of them were character posters and comic book covers, with a few hockey ones thrown up in between.

The bookshelf in Wash’s room was just as crammed as the others in the living room, this one with a wide assortment of comics, CDs, and DVDs. Tucker scanned the titles of some of the CDs and snorted when he saw most of them were indeed pre-2000. He shook his head and teased Wash for his shitty musical taste before they returned to the living room.

Tucker had been able to hear Junior’s hyper babbling even from Wash’s room, and the sound continued to fill the air once they entered the main room. When Tucker checked on him, he remained beneath Furbomb while chatting happily with Mimi who sat within arm’s reach of Junior. It made Tucker’s shoulders relax, and he didn’t feel guilty when he wandered over to the pictures he’d spotted earlier instead of staying to entertain Junior.

“Those are my foster parents,”Wash said when Tucker reached the first photo, staring down at the middle-aged couple who smiled up at him.

Tucker turned around, but the look on Wash’s face wasn’t bitter or sad. His entire face softened with the small smile he gave the picture and then Tucker when Tucker stared at him. “I ended up with them when I was five and stayed until I started university.”

“Shit, dude, that’s–” Tucker stopped, unsure what to say when Wash didn’t look like he wanted condolences. “Were you the only kid?”

Wash shrugged.

“There were a couple others as I was growing up. None of them stayed for very long, though. Some got adopted and some got taken back by their biological families.”

Tucker hesitated, glancing at the rest of the photos. Wash was in a couple of them, grinning at the direction of the camera. His foster parents were hugging him in one and an older girl gave him a piggyback in another. In the final picture, a young kid who looked like Maine made shapes in the mud with Wash. They oozed happiness in a way that made Tucker feel like he was encroaching on something private just by looking at them.

He put the one he was holding down, but didn’t look back at Wash. They had stumbled into a severely personal conversation without any warning, and Tucker had come with no preparations for such an event. He didn’t know if he wanted to exit the conversation as quickly as possible, or dig deeper. Running felt like a coward’s move in a way it never had before, but continuing in the same vein made his heart pound faster and made the room suddenly seem too hot.

“It’s okay, Tucker,” Wash said. “I’m not upset by it. They were really good to me–even try to help out with my university funds and stuff like normal parents. And they were family friends with Maine’s family so it’s because of them we became friends.”

“But they never tried to actually adopt you?”  

“No. Technically, they’re my biological mom’s second cousins. I think that’s why my mom–foster mom, that is–always seemed to think my biological parents would come get me. But I never had any contact with them or their parents or anything like that.”

The easy way he said the words made Tucker think Wash had given the explanation many times before, gone through the same conversation until it had become a routine one he could get through regardless of his actual mood.

“Do the other lifeguards know?” Tucker finally looked up at him, and Wash seemed a bit startled by the question, but nodded.

“Maine obviously knew since we were kids. I told Connie pretty soon after we became friends in first year. And during the summer when I worked with everyone, parents came up at one of our staff parties so they found out pretty quick.” He met Tucker’s gaze calmly. “It’s really nothing that needs to be hidden or ashamed of.”

He said that, but Tucker knew how easy it was to shrug off something that had caused endless nights staring out the window as a child, wondering what you had possibly done to make you so unworthy of love from the very people who had brought you into the world.

“Still.” They fell quiet for a moment, listening to Junior’s excited chatter as Tucker tried not to fidget.

“My dad ran out on us when I was ten,” Tucker blurted, and Wash went still.

He didn’t look away though, and Tucker continued before he could say something that would interrupt Tucker’s flow and halt the story entirely. “My mom–she didn’t really handle it very well. She tried, worked a couple jobs to keep us afloat, but she was never happy anymore, never wanted to see me except at meals to make sure I was still breathing. She sent me to live with my aunt and her son when I was twelve, figured I would be better off there. My aunt had more money than us so I was never hungry or anything like that but.”

Tucker shrugged. “My Aunt tried but we didn’t really click well. Me with her, or with my cousin. She was fucking _pissed_ when she found out about Junior, nearly kicked me out of the house right there.”

That was probably the thing that Tucker hated the most now that he was out of her house and accepted the shitty hand he had been dealt in terms of his family life. Not that his mom barely contacted him except to make sure he was alive and not failing university. Not that his only contact with his aunt was the monthly cheques she sent him, and that he hadn’t spoken with his cousin since he moved out. Not that Tucker had no idea if his dad was alive or dead, and didn’t know if the reason he left was because of the marriage or because he couldn’t deal with a child who could never shut his mouth.

No, what Tucker hated the most was that Junior was deprived of the extended family most people had. He had grandparents on his mother’s side he could see at least, but his mom was an only child and so there were no aunts, uncles, or cousins on that side. He had only met Tucker’s mother once, when he was three years old. Outside that, all he knew about her was the bare information Tucker could offer. Tucker couldn’t offer him any aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents to bond with and rely on when Tucker couldn’t help.

“I’m sorry, Tucker,” Wash offered quietly.  

Before he could say anything more, Mimi came racing out of the kitchen, cutting off Wash’s next sentence. Junior toddled right after her, sprinting as fast as he could. He had a bowl of cat food clutched in his hands and held out in front of him, calling for the cat as he went.

“Junior!” Tucker called, but his shout did nothing to slow his son’s progress.

The carpet did, though.

Mimi sprinted down the hallway toward Wash’s bedroom, and at the entrance of the hallway, Junior made a misstep. Before either of them could blink, the boy went crashing to the floor as the cat food flew from his hands. It scattered all over the carpet, and Junior’s face slammed into the bowl.

A second of utter silence descended and then Junior’s wail pierced the air.

“Hey, hey, come on, buddy, you’re okay,” Tucker said as he started over to where Junior cried.

The child pushed himself into a sitting position, but didn’t quiet even once Tucker knelt down in front of him. Junior’s hands clutched at Tucker’s shirt, and Tucker allowed Junior to climb into his lap. Junior answered negatively to questions about any bleeding or scrapes, but his noises of distress continued. When Tucker straightened, Junior pressed his wet face to Tucker’s neck.

“Uh,” Wash said, and when Tucker turned around, there was growing panic in Wash’s wide eyes.  

“Dude, you teach kids for your job. You can’t tell me you’ve never fucking dealt with a crying kid in your lesson.”

“Yes, but they’re never crying about being hurt! Either they’re scared of the water or they want their parent. Crying kids at a pool I’m used to dealing with.”

Tucker opened his mouth to rag on him more, but then he remembered just how terrified he had been the first time Junior started crying as a baby. The sound made his throat close up, and the longer it went, the longer he felt like he’d already failed his kid.

Tucker moved closer to Wash, keeping a firm grip on Junior as his crying quieted to sniffling.

“He’s okay, Wash,” Tucker assured him. “No blood or anything. I bet as soon as we start doing something else he’ll feel better.”

“Um, comics?” Wash suggested, and then turned his gaze to Junior. “Would you like to see my comics, Junior? I’ve got a bunch with Hulk right on the cover.”

Junior sniffled and didn’t look up, but nodded his head. Tucker smiled and gestured with one hand toward the bedroom.

“Lead the way, Wash.”

They followed him into Wash’s bedroom where he looked through his bookshelf for the comics he thought Junior would like best. Junior slowly began to look around after much coaxing from Tucker, wide gaze lingering on all the pillows before Wash returned with five comics in his hand. Tucker lowered Junior to the ground and then both of them sat beside him as Wash offered the comics.

With a reminder from Tucker to be gentle with the pages, Junior started to flip through them. His fingers pointed out each character he knew with growing excitement, and soon the grin had returned to his face. He asked Wash eager questions about what the characters were doing on each page, and Wash gave a patient explanation to each inquiry. Tucker leaned back on his elbows and stayed quiet, content to let the two geek out on their own.

Once Junior grew bored of looking at them, Wash allowed him to climb onto the bed and make a fort with all the pillows. They helped him build it and then listened as he gave them character roles. Junior claimed the fort as his own while Wash and Tucker pretended to be the evil soldiers trying to storm its gates and steal the place. It took Wash a few minutes to warm up, but soon he was dramatically dying alongside Tucker every time Junior hit him with a pillow.

Eventually the sunlight faded and the three grew hungry. Wash left the two to make dinner, though Tucker said he could help given his knowledge of Wash’s inability to cook. But he insisted, distracting Junior with the DVDs he could choose for them to watch and leaving Tucker to make sure the kid didn’t pull out everything from the bookshelf.

Wash decided on sandwiches and salad, in what was probably the healthiest meal Junior had ever had with Tucker. He let them make their own sandwich, leaving out the ingredients on the counter so Tucker could help Junior choose what he wanted on it. Wash took the DVDs Junior had chosen for them to watch, all animated superhero movies.

“I can’t believe you own all of those,” Tucker said as Junior took a massive bite of his sandwich. He sat on the floor next to Mimi as Tucker cleaned up the mess of cat food in the kitchen. “I mean I knew you were a dork, but that is taking it to the next level.”

“A lot of them were presents,” Wash replied. The moment he put the first DVD in, Junior grabbed his plate and scurried over to plop onto the couch. “From the lifeguards, actually. It was my birthday at the end of August and they all thought it would be a good idea to have a theme.”

Wash retreated to the closet to grab the vacuum cleaner for the cat food Junior had spilled in the hallway. Tucker pulled out some chocolate milk from the fridge and poured everyone a glass before joining Junior on the couch.

“Wash bought the milk just for us, so try not to spill, okay?”

“I know.”

His fall completely forgotten at that point, Junior focused on the screen as the animated version of Batman appeared. Wash joined them moments later with his own plate, sitting on Tucker’s left while Junior occupied his right.

Watching a movie with Junior was never a quiet affair. He asked a question every time a new character came on screen or an action scene occurred. When he did know a character, he would turn to the two of them and explain exactly who the person was. Sometimes he ended the explanation with, “right, Daddy?” and Tucker verbalized his agreement. Five minutes later, Junior would find something else to comment on, and every time he laughed, he needed to explain the joke to Wash and Tucker as if they had missed it.

Tucker was used to it, and it meant he didn’t feel guilty about talking to Wash during the movies. Both Mimi and Furbomb leapt up onto the couch with them at one point after the plates had been returned to the kitchen, and Junior crawled into Tucker’s lap so he could reach the cats better.

The rest of the evening passed in that way, the sky outside growing steadily darker as stars blinked into being. Junior had moved down onto the carpet when the cats jumped down there, and the quiet pauses between his commentary expanded with each passing moment. Tucker eventually stopped prodding at Wash and the two slipped into a peaceful silence, the colours flashing on the screen seeming even further away than two feet.

Around the same time Tucker realized it was probably growing close to Junior’s bedtime, he noticed the weight on his shoulder. He glanced to his left, and the top of Wash’s head filled his vision. His temple pressed against Tucker’s shoulder and his eyes were closed. The rise and fall of his chest was slow with sleep, and for a long moment, Tucker just studied the shadows under Wash’s eyes and the slump of his shoulders.

“We gotta get going now, Junior,” Tucker whispered.

Wash didn’t stir and Junior slowly looked over to Tucker. He lay on his stomach, chin resting on his hands as the latest movie they’d put in continued to play. “Bedtime for everyone.”

“Are Mimi and Furbomb gonna sleep too?” Junior asked.

“That’s right. Them and Wash are all tired so we gotta leave them for the night.” Tucker gently lifted Wash off him and then lowered his head to the cushion of the couch. When it looked like Junior wanted to protest, Tucker added, “We’ll come visit them again though, okay?”

Junior nodded and left to get his jacket when Tucker asked him to. While he did, Tucker hurried into Wash’s bedroom to grab a pillow and the comforter from the bed. Junior waited with the cats when Tucker returned, and he sat down when Tucker told him to wait a moment. Wash remained asleep, and Tucker wondered just how exhausted the idiot had been even as he texted Tucker the directions and to confirm their visit for the day.

Though at least this proved that the lifeguards were in fact human despite the strange intensity they seemed to approach everything with, and Wash’s inhuman liver.

Tucker snuck the pillow under Wash’s head and then grunted as he shoved Wash’s legs back onto the couch instead of leaving them dangling awkwardly over the side. Junior came over to watch as Tucker placed the comforter on top of Wash and then examined his handiwork.

“Okay, buddy, let’s go,” Tucker said quietly to Junior. “We’ll thank Wash next time we see him, okay?”

Junior nodded, but then lifted his hand to wave at Wash’s sleeping form.

“Bye bye,” he said, and then turned to the cats to repeat the action.

Tucker smiled and then led Junior out the door. At the last second, he got an idea and went back inside to leave a note on the TV. With that, he returned to his son and they headed down the sidewalk together to the bus stop.

An hour later Tucker had finally tucked Junior into bed, and sat staring at his textbook at his desk when his phone went off with a text.

 _Shit, I’m so sorry_ , the message from Wash read, and Tucker rolled his eyes.

 _Dude, didn’t you see my note?_ Tucker replied. _I told you not to worry about it. We had an awesome time and I think Junior wants to marry your cats. Or marry you to get your cats._

_Yeah I saw it. I still wanted to apologize._

_For being tired? Fuck, dude, you’re only human. Even Church sleeps sometimes and I swear to fuck he’s actually a robot in disguise._

_A robot?_ Tucker could see the amused smile that would tugging at Wash’s lips in response to that, and Tucker grinned.

_Yup. World’s most annoying robot who would kill us all in our sleep if he didn’t need people around to complain to._

There was a pause and Tucker stared down at a sentence in his textbook. The foreign words seemed to taunt him, his brain able to translate about half of the sentence before it simply shut down and refused to understand anything else. Tucker shoved the textbook away and wondered if he should simply accept defeat for the night. Junior and Wash seemed to have the right idea at the moment, and Church had gone off to Tex’s for the night so there was no one conscious at home to keep him from just passing out.

 _So what does that make Tex?_ Wash’s reply finally came and Tucker wondered if he had been laughing in the meantime. _Robot too?_

_It would explain why she’s so freakishly strong._

_Carolina’s pretty strong too and I’m 100% sure she’s not a robot._

_Sarge has a theory they’re both half shark._

_Yes, I’ve heard that one. I’ve seen her in a swimsuit and I definitely didn’t see any fins or gills._

Tucker hummed in response even though Wash wouldn’t be able to hear it. He flicked off his reading lamp and then used his phone light to make it to his bed.

 _Dude, aren’t you tired?_ Tucker asked. _You were passed out ten minutes ago._

_Is that your way of trying to get me to shut up?_

Tucker climbed into bed beside Junior and wrapped an arm around him when he shifted closer to Tucker.

_Well I’m going to sleep and I’m pretty sure you should too since you fucking passed out._

_I have homework._

_Dude. Go the fuck to sleep. You’re homework’s gonna be crap if you try and do it now._

His phone fell quiet for a long moment, and just as Tucker began to slip into sleep, his phone chimed with one last text.

_Good night, Tucker._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, all of the AIs have now been introduced and I hope you liked the additions of them. Thank to you to two of my friends/betas to thank for making sure everyone was in character and helping me develop Eta and Iota. 
> 
> EDIT: My friend made character designs for the AI children, I am now linking to my blog since she has moved urls a bit: http://gracer222.tumblr.com/post/127268648669/woah-mako-lifeguard-and-waterpolo-rvb-au
> 
> I'll try and work in the rest of the Chorus lieutenants slowly throughout the rest of the chapters. One small note about Wash's dialogue, in swimming lessons we are no longer supposed to refer to kids as passing or failing. The worksheets now have "complete" vs "incomplete" and those are the terms that are supposed to be used in front of the general public.
> 
> For those who want more about the cats:  
> Mimi is three and the friendliest (named by Connie) and is a tabby cat. Furbomb was named by Maine, and is 6 years of age. He is an orange Maine Coon, which are supposed to be very gentle, friendly, and intelligent. He is less friendly than Mimi mostly because older and lazy, but will lie on top of strangers no problem. Cyndi is named after Cyndi Lauper and is a Ragdoll. Dennis is named after Dennis Elliot (drummer for The Foreigners) and is a ten year old Persian cat.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a few seconds, Tucker’s drunk pseudo-lecture about the damaging effects Tex and Church’s competitiveness had on their relationship echoed in her mind. Then she gave her username to Kai.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KD=Kraft Dinner

Tex waited for Kaikaina in the lobby of the downtown Goodlife gym four days after she sent Kai the text asking to work-out together. Sheila hadn’t arrived yet either, forcing Tex to wait by herself in her jeans and loose sweater. She received a text message from Shiela explaining she was just finishing up her lab when Kai burst through the lobby doors with a grin. A large gym bag hung off her shoulder, and she bounced up to Tex the second she spotted her.

Tex slowly unpeeled herself from her seat so she could stand.

“Hey, Tex!” Kai said as she shifted on the balls of her feet. “Were you waiting long?”

“No.”

“Oh good. Keeping your partners waiting as long as possible in bed is awesome, but waiting totally sucks otherwise.”

Tex stared at her. The only thing Tex knew about the younger girl was she was the younger sister of Grif from the Reds, got along well Tucker, and played for the Blues. Up until that point, Tex didn’t know anything about the way Kai spoke, acted, or thought.

Given that she got along well with the rest of the Blues and Reds, though, her actions really weren’t that surprising.

“Right,” Tex replied. “Well the other girl who will be working out with us is running a bit late because of class. She’ll be here in a bit and her name’s Shiela.”

“Oh yeah! Caboose talks about her a lot–says she’s super pretty and really smart, but Church said he thinks Lopez and her were gonna date instead but we’re not supposed to bring that up with Caboose. He’s really sensitive, you know?”

“Yes,” Tex said, struggling to keep her tone from entering confrontational territory. “I know.”

Tex might not know much about Kai and she might not even have wanted to hang-out in the first place, but damn if she would let Church be right about some stupid jealousy issue. She had told Church they were gym buddies, so they would be gym buddies before Church learned otherwise.

Besides, this made it much easier to find out just how close Kai was with everyone.

“So, what do you want to start with?” Tex asked.

“Oh, first!” In a single, fluid motion, Kai stepped right beside Tex, pulled out her phone, and took a selfie. Tex blinked as Kai lowered the phone and began to type out a caption for the picture.

 _@ gym with local badass hell yea! ;)_ Kai typed, and then set it as her story on Snapchat.

“Local badass?” Tex questioned as Kai waited for it to upload.

“Well duh! You totally kicked everyone’s ass in water polo and Church told us how you can box super well which Tucker said is code for kicked Church’s ass, and I know the lifeguards are super intense, _and_ you have the best muscles I’ve ever seen. Total badass!”

Tex crossed her arms, allowing herself to feel smug at the description but refusing to let it soften her feelings for the girl.

“Jensen and Volleyball were sooo jealous when I told them about it,” Kai continued.

“Jensen and…Volleyball?”

“Yeah! Technically Katie is Jensen’s first name, but when you’re leading a double life of super sexy mechanical engineer student slash even sexier superhero, you gotta go by your last name. And Volleyball swears all her friends to secrecy about her actual name.”

The picture finally uploaded to Kai’s Snapchat and Tex received a text from Sheila claiming to be five minutes away. The lady at the front desk was starting to give the two odd looks, so Tex led Kai to the locker rooms after replying to Sheila.

“Do you have Snapchat, Tex?” Kai asked along the way. When Tex nodded, Kai’s grin widened and she said, “Ooh, let me add you then! Quick, what’s your name?”

Tex looked back at where Kai stood with her fingers hovering over the touchscreen keyboard on her phone. The girl didn’t seem at all taken aback by Tex’s less than enthusiastic mood so far, or the fact that they had never really spoken before then. While the seconds ticked by, Tex considered the harm in sharing the username. On the one hand, it would give Kai the idea they were friends. On the other hand, regular gym buddies would probably have each other on Snapchat, and Church would likely be suspicious otherwise.

For a few seconds, Tucker’s drunk pseudo-lecture about the damaging effects Tex and Church’s competitiveness had on their relationship echoed in her mind. Then she gave her username to Kai.

“Cool!” Kai said as she added her. “Holy shit, your story’s super long! That’s awesome!”

Tex pulled out her phone to confirm Kai’s add request, and tried not to frown when she saw the length of both their stories were equal. Too long, according to both Church and Tucker who were often the victims of the photos.

They made it to the locker room and began to change. After Kai put on the shortest spandex shorts Tex had ever seen, Sheila finally arrived with an apology and pleasant smile.

“Hello, Kaikaina,” she said to Kai when the girl shouted a happy greeting. “It’s been awhile.”

When Tex told Sheila about the plan, her friend had mentioned she knew Kai, though she hadn’t said how well. Given that Sheila remained fairly polite with everyone she knew, it could be hard to tell just how long she had known anyone.

“How’s life as a mad scientist? Did you get to blow anyone up yet?”

“I’m afraid our lab experiments are much less explosive.”

“Awww, that’s no fun!”

“You sound like Tex.” Sheila looked over at her with a smile. “She is always saying I should put my chemistry knowledge to good use and help her deal with the people who annoy her. I’m afraid most of the world’s population would be dead if I did that, though.”

“You’d be alive,” Tex reassured Sheila. “So why not?”

“Well, I do believe you would miss your boyfriend.”

“Pshh,” Kai said and waved her hand. “Tex could find ten guys even hotter than Church in five minutes if she really wanted to.”

“This is true. But she is fond of Church, despite how much they both complain about each other.”

“Okay!” Tex clapped her hands together to get the other two’s attention. “Enough mushy feelings talk for one day. What are we starting with?”

Sheila changed into her workout clothes as Tex waited for their response.

“Well I normally do pilates and yoga and shit,” Kai said. “You know, so I can put my leg over my head for an even better sex life than I already have.”

“Nice,” Tex replied before she could stop herself. She reminded herself she wasn’t supposed to like Kai, no matter how much the girl acted like an excited puppy in Tex’s presence.

“But I figured you’d wanna do weights and stuff like that which I am totally down to learn.”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah, I can _literally_ pick up chicks this way! And maybe even dudes.”

“Definitely dudes too,” Tex said, because she could carry both Church and Tucker’s sorry asses, whether they wanted her to or not.

“We try to strengthen most muscles of the body,” Sheila added, now fully changed for the night’s workout. “So we will use weights and machines for our arms, as well as work on our abs and leg muscles. It is important to pay equal attention to all parts of your body.”

“Right,” Tex agreed. “So let’s get started.”

They headed out into the area of the gym that housed most of the muscle strengthening and endurance equipment. First they all took down some matts and went through stretching together. Tex had to admit, Kai’s flexibility was impressive, and the girl grinned when Sheila complimented her. Once warmed up, they began with their arms and Tex took the lead for the most part.

Despite the stream of excited chatter Kai kept up through most of their workout, she listened well to Tex’s instructions and didn’t hesitate to admit any gaps in knowledge she possessed. Tex didn’t know how she acted around her brother and the others, but she clearly looked to Sheila and Tex as the experts while they remained at the gym. In return for the girls’ advice, Kai offered them a steady supply of ridiculous and amusing anecdotes and stories throughout the night. 

“Hey, Tex,” she asked when they were halfway through their ab workout.

They sat across from each other on the mats, Tex’s feet planted over Kai’s to keep them from lifting up every time Kai sat up to pass the medicine ball to Tex. Sheila had volunteered to do the exercise by herself, and Tex allowed herself to be pulled along by Kai’s eagerness and Sheila’s smile.

“Do you think you guys could show me a bit of boxing sometime?” Kai asked. The question was interspersed throughout each sit-up, and Tex completed a sit-up before replying.

“I guess some other night.” One night of working out together would not be enough given what she told Church, and Sheila now seemed to enjoy Kai’s added presence. “Why?”

“It looks really cool. And like I know how to throw a basic punch and kick a guy’s groin, but I think it’d be good to have some extra moves cuz some of the guys and even the girls can get really pushy at the parties and bars, and I sure as hell want to take care of myself.”

“Kai,” Tex began, because feelings of dislike or like didn’t apply to a situation like that. Tex would be damned if she let some asshole force themselves on anyone, stranger or friend. “Has somebody–”

“Oh shit, now you look like Grif whenever I mention I’m going out,” Kai said, and she put her hands in front of her as if that would calm Tex down. “I promise nobody has ever done anything serious to me. I told you, I know how to throw a punch, and that plus Jensen and Volleyball watching my back normally gets all the douchebags to step off. I just figured you’d know some even more badass and effective moves.”

“We can help with that,” Tex said after a pause, and Kai grinned in response.

As they started their leg workout with lunges, Tex realized Kai made it easy to feel protective of her despite the independence she possessed. She chattered to everyone with genuine optimism and friendliness, just as she had the first time she met Tex at the pool even when Tex responded negatively to her. She was as easily impressed as Junior was, reacting with open awe and sincere compliments that Omega often bit back.

Yet as much as Tex wanted to chalk that up to simplicity or stupidity, she couldn’t. The conversations displayed intelligence amidst the incredulous subject matter, and Tex had to respect her openness about sexuality in general.

Technically, Tex wasn’t supposed to be upset about Kai for infringing on Tex’s territory after what she told Church. And the more the night wore on, the harder it was for Tex to hold onto those feelings of dislike.

Not that they vanished completely. Tex could hold onto shit just as long as Church or Carolina when she wanted to.

It was around nine pm when they finished up and headed back to the locker rooms to change and shower. Kai sang loudly in the shower and encouraged the other two to join her. After they were all changed and had left the locker room, Kai headed toward the small café within the gym.

“Kai?’ Sheila called after her.

“I’ve been craving a smoothie all week!” Kai shouted back in response, and the other two followed her.

“You know, Tex makes really good smoothies,” Sheila said, though Kai had already ordered one. When Kai glanced at Sheila, she stepped up to order a drink as well.

“Oh yeah, Tucker told me,” Kai said to Tex. “He said it’s one of the few things that gets Church to calm down when he’s in a pissy mood.”

“He has an unhealthy addiction to chocolate drinks,” Tex told her, and since the other two had ordered one, she shelled out some change to order a drink herself. Sheila would want to sit and drink it anyways, so Tex might as well drink one while waiting for the others to finish.

“How are you liking playing with the Blues anyways?” Tex asked once they all took a seat with their drinks.

Before answering the question, Kai took a picture of all of them squeezed together while holding up their drinks. Tex watched her type out a caption with a furrowed brow, and then she slid the phone into her pocket.

“It’s a lot of fun,” Kai said, and took a long drink of her mango smoothie. “They’re total idiots sometimes and Sarge likes to yell a lot and Wash acts really old sometimes, but I still love playing with them.”

“The scrimmage match I watched did seem like a lot of fun,” Sheila said. “Both Lopez and Tex have made amusing comments on their intelligence level as well.”

Tex smirked a little because nobody could deny that they were idiots. But they were _her_ idiots.

“Yeah and it’s a lot of fun playing against my brother when he actually gives a shit. And everyone chirps on each other about the latest practice when we all play video games together. It’s like they’re their own dumb community, you know? Thinking about it makes me feel better whenever I’m sad about mom.”

She took another sip of her drink. “But it’s always awesome when you come, Tex! Cuz then I’m not the only girl there and I get to laugh at everyone. I’m super pumped for the rest of the workouts now!”

Tex stared at her as she happily continued to drink. Sheila seemed to content to remain silent for the moment as she worked on her own smoothie. In the quiet, Tex prodded and picked at the latest statements from Kai. She pulled out her phone to check the latest snap Kai posted after a few minutes of quiet.

The first picture on Kai’s story was the one Tex had already seen, followed by a picture Kai had taken in the locker room of all three of them.

 _You wish you were as awesome as us,_ the caption read. The next one was of Sheila doing a bicep curl as she smiled at the camera.

 _Check out these mad guns! :o_ Were the words over that picture. Kai’s sweaty face filled the screen when it switched to another picture, and she’d typed out the caption,

_If I don’t make it, Donut gets dibs on all my baking shit._

The second last one was of Tex in the middle of a squat as she held a barbell to her chest.

 _Too hot, hot damn!! *hearteyes*_ Kai had written and Tex fought back any smile that tried to creep across her face.

Finally came the picture Kai had taken in the café with the three of them holding their smoothies.

 _Just finished working out with these fabulous bitches! <3 _the caption said, and Tex stared at her phone for a moment even after the last snap ended. Then she placed her Blackberry on the table and said,

“Hey, Kai, did you ever hear about the time I stole Tucker’s phone and Ipod?”

***

The worst thing about Tucker’s shifts on Mondays and Wednesdays was that he had to go to class right after and had water polo practice before. Placed in the middle of the afternoon, Tucker experienced both the sleepy lull of the early afternoon and the afterschool rush that always occurred. It made the shift less than ideal, but it was the shift that fit best in Tucker’s schedule and Tucker needed the money.

Wednesdays usually didn’t see Wash inside the café but that day, Tucker spotted someone else he recognized. Around two-thirty the bells in the entrance of the café rang, and Tucker looked up to spot a woman heading toward the counter. Throwing one last straw at Doc, Tucker headed up to the front to greet the woman.

“Oh hey, you go to the pool,” Tucker said instead of asking her what she wanted when she reached him. Her eyes widened a little and Tucker kept going even though the outburst had caught himself by surprise. “On Saturday mornings, right? You’re that lady who shows up with a dozen kids to do private swimming lessons.”

“Just eight kids, actually,” the woman said with a small smile. “I babysit them. I’m sorry, but have we met?”

“Uh no, sorry, I’m Tucker. My kid has lessons then too so I’ve seen you around and I thought you looked kinda familiar.”

“Oh, right. I’m Vanessa Kimball.” She offered a hand to shake, as if she hadn’t come in to buy a coffee and he wasn’t the random cashier who was supposed to be serving her. He took it, and then offered a grin.

“So eight kids?”

“Yes, well, I’ll admit, not quite the career choice I originally chose for myself,” Vanessa said, and that small smile remained. “And I’ve had to get some extra hands to help with the additional children. But I needed work and the parents needed someone who could look after their kids. Sometimes during hours normal daycares and afterschool programs don’t offer.”

“You don’t mind odd hours?”

She shrugged.

“Believe it or not, I used to work in business.”

Tucker wanted to say he could, for she held herself confidently and she always wore immaculate outfits. She continued before he could say a word, though. “So I’m used to most of my day being taken up by work. And now that I’m not working there, I like to keep myself busy.”

“See, my reaction would have been to just take the free vacation time,” Tucker said, and she pulled out her wallet.

“Unfortunately, I do need the money. I imagine you do too.”

Tucker snorted.

“With a kid and university to do? Fuck yeah I do.”

“How old is your kid?” She asked after ordering a vanilla latte. Tucker called over his shoulder as he went to work on the order and Doc headed out to clean some of the tables.

“Five. You have any kids his age at your place?”

“Our youngest is nine, though he’d probably be more than happy to play with anyone of any age. He loves new friends.”

Wash had told him about all of the privates they had, though Tucker couldn’t remember the ages. He knew Tex had an angry adolescent by the name of Omega, though, and Wash had texted him about getting one who didn’t seem very open to new people at the moment.

“Junior can be a bit shy,” Tucker said when he finished up her drink. The reminder of Wash had his gaze glancing toward his phone as he remembered what he had wanted to text Wash about after his shift. “And I’m still trying to get him to share his toys.”

Tucker returned to the counter with her drink and she handed him the money. She wrapped her hand around her drink and offered him one last smile.

“Well, maybe they’ll have a chance to play together at one of the recreational swims. Have a nice day, Tucker.”

“You too,” he replied automatically, and watched her stride out of the café. Tucker retreated a few steps to lean against the back counter while he glanced around the relatively quiet café for a moment. Doc hummed to the tinny music filtering through the café’s speakers while he wiped the tables down.

Only fifteen minutes later, another person Tucker recognized strode through the door. He looked up as she entered, and felt the urge to disappear beneath the counters where she couldn’t see him. But South spotted him a second later, and a grin spread across her face. She stalked toward him like a missile to its target.

“Sup,” she greeted him when she reached the counter, tossing her purse onto the surface with a loud slam. Tucker saw Doc startle and stare out of the corner of his eye, before Doc just returned to his earlier task. “How come you didn’t tell us you worked here?”

“Uh,” Tucker said, trying not to be too frightened by the intensity of her gaze. He still had vivid memories of the taste of her king’s cup, and any stories Wash had told about her did nothing to ease Tucker’s hesitation around her. “I only met you once?”

“These are the kinda things you tell a person right away,” South told him. “So they know where to get free coffee.”

“I’m not getting you free coffee,” Tucker said. “I like this job and that would get me fired. Sides, Wash knew I worked here, so he could have told you.”

“He knew?” South blinked. “And he didn’t fucking tell me? That little shithead.” She propped her elbows on the counter and leaned against it. “I bet you get _Wash_ free coffee.”

“Hell no. And he doesn’t drink coffee anyways.”

“Fine, you get him free–” South waved her hand in the air, struggling to think of the other expresso drinks. “Caramel, no foam–”

“Medium café mocha with whipped cream, sometimes chocolate drizzle,” Tucker interrupted as amusement took away some of his earlier hesitation. South stopped speaking, body going still and gaze only growing sharper.

“You know his coffee order.”

“Dude, I know the coffee order of everyone who comes in here at least once a week.I’m just that awesome.”

“Uh-huh.” South pushed away from the counter, straightening up to study the menu. “Well, I’m gonna go yell at him for not abusing his connections regardless. But first, I want a strawberry smoothie and a Caesar salad for here.”

Tucker typed in her order and told her the total just as her phone went off. She pulled it out of her jean pocket with one hand and sifted through her wallet with her other. The grin from earlier vanished as her eyes scanned the phone screen, a murderous scowl replacing it.

“On a second thought, change that Caesar salad for the biggest fucking slice of cheesecake you’ve got.”

Tucker glanced from the phone to her angry expression and then cancelled her order. He began to enter the new one, and asked,

“So, who you gonna kill now?”

She didn’t answer right away, instead giving him the money for the new order before looking back up at him.

“My brother,” South replied, “Is a patronizing asshole.”

“He telling you to eat something healthy?” Tucker asked as he gave her the change.

He grabbed a plate and then moved to the display window where all the baked goods rested. All slices were relatively the same, but Tucker gave each of them a once over before choosing one. He already knew South Dakota was not someone you wanted to piss off when she was already mad at someone else.

“ ‘If you’re getting food there, make sure you get something at least relatively good for you,’ ” South said, voice taking on a caricaturized imitation of North’s. She glanced at her phone screen as she did, and Tucker wondered if he was getting the actual text message or the exaggerated version. “ ‘Remember how sick you got after eating KD for a week. And mom will kill you if you get another cavity like in second year.’ ”

Tucker placed the plate of cheesecake on the counter. She pulled it closer to her and then held her phone above it as she snapped a picture.

“Like fucking Christ, I’m not a god damn child,” she snapped. “And that KD thing was in first fucking year.”

“Wait, are you telling me he _hasn’t_ lived off KD for a week?” Tucker asked. “Pretty sure Church and I lived off it for a month last year.”

South snorted and tucked her phone back into jean pocket.

“Oh, he’s done shit like it, and worse. Normally he’s not this bad but whenever he gets stressed like near finals it’s always my fucking ‘mistakes’ he’s gotta bring up because heaven forbid I make my own decisions.”

Tucker headed to the fridge to start making her smoothie.

“So basically you’ve actually got a parent living with you,” Tucker said before starting the machine. The loud noise caused Tucker to wince and he stepped away from it as it filled the entire café with sound. When it finished, he poured her the drink and passed it over the counter.

“So much worse than that,” South muttered as she grabbed the drink. She raised her voice to a conversational level. “Only reply he’s getting is a pic of the cake.”

“I give you full points for that level of passive aggressiveness,” Tucker said with a grin, and the scowl faded a bit from her face.

“Hell yeah.” She took a sip of her drink but didn’t move away from the counter. “You know, you’re pretty alright. I’m almost tempted to delete those pictures of you and Wash.”

The room suddenly felt too hot at the reminder of that night and Tucker blinked a little at his abnormal response. With South waiting for a reply, though, he quickly moved past the momentary strangeness given its lack of relevance.  

“For some reason I don’t believe you.”

“Oh good, you’re not too stupid either. Yeah, no temptation whatsoever. But maybe I’ll get Wash to bring you to another staff party.”

“I think that would be more fun for you than me.”

The idea was somewhat tempting though, especially since Tucker found himself capable of talking to South when her anger was focused on someone else. She grinned at him.

“Exactly,” she replied. She grabbed the plate and drink before heading off to a table. “See ya round, shortie.”

Tucker stared after her, mouth opening slightly to protest the nickname and the fact that he wasn’t _that_ short. South was simply a giant in comparison to him. He decided not to bother though, given her mood with her brother and her obvious stubbornness.

Her appearance had triggered another reminder of what he had wanted to do that day, so he called out to Doc,

“Hey, Doc, cover me for a sec!”

He didn’t wait to hear Doc’s reply, instead walked into the backroom to grab his phone before he forgot to message Wash entirely. With his class so soon after work, it wouldn’t be the first time such an incident occurred.

The last text from Wash was a link to some water polo match Tucker had yet to watch. Sarge had found it, the most surprising thing about it being that the man knew how to use a computer well enough to find and link things from Youtube. He thought watching it would give them some good ideas for their games, and Wash had passed it along to the Blues.

For the past week the joint practices had been working surprisingly well. Perhaps it stemmed from the fact that they could still practice in separate groups for many of the drills, allowing the distinction of Reds and Blues to remain. In group drills, Sarge and Wash sometimes argued, but the more they talked, the more a grudging respect for the other seemed to grow. After playing against each other for so long with scrimmages, switching gears to play alongside each other was hardly the most difficult thing they’d ever done. Each of them knew how the other played, and they continued to do scrimmages at the end of each practice just as Wash had promised.

The exhibition matches and joining of the league had not yet happened despite the same promise, but Wash said it wouldn’t be too much longer before it worked out. In the meantime, Wash had shifted from being simply Tucker’s annoying water polo coach to landing firmly in friend territory.

 _Hey, dude,_ Tucker texted Wash. _You free Friday? It’s pasta night with everyone and I owe you for last Saturday. Plus, a chance to eat a cooked meal without having burned down your apartment._

The reply came through just as Tucker finished his shift and headed for the bus stop.

 _Ha ha,_ it read. _You don’t owe for Saturday night but if you don’t mind me showing up late cuz of my classes, then sure._

_No worries, dude, we don’t start eating till late. Everyone shows up whenever to just loaf around and annoy me._

_Others?_ The reply came a few moments later and Tucker realized that Wash wouldn’t know exactly what the event was. Once sitting on the bus, Tucker tapped out an explanation.

_Yeah, it’s like a monthly thing we have with everyone from water polo and some of my coworkers because I am just that fucking amazing at making pasta. I think Tex is even coming this time too._

_At your place?_ Wash asked. _Should I bring something?_

_Yeah. Don’t worry about it, dude. Church and me do all the cooking, and everyone else just shows up. But if you want booze then yeah, you gotta bring that shit yourself. Especially since I would go broke just trying to buy enough booze for you to get buzzed._

_I’m glad to see you’re capacity to exaggerate is still working after such a long work day,_ Wash replied. _But okay. I’ll be there._

***

Pasta day was not at all what Wash expected.

When Tucker first told him about the event, he assumed it would simply be the apartment’s residents that took part in it. Even after Tucker said the Reds and Blues would be there, Wash thought it would still only be a few of them given the small size of Tucker and Church’s apartment. Nobody had mentioned it at that morning’s practice either, and it meant Wash had no idea who would be there and who would not.

He wondered about it as he waited outside Tucker’s apartment door with a large bowl of salad in his hands. Tucker might have said not to bring anything, but Wash felt uncomfortable simply showing up to such an event empty handed. Plus, he could guess the salad would end up being the only green thing on the menu.

Wash thought he heard the sound of Church shouting before the door swung open a minute after Wash had knocked.

“Oh, hey, Wash,” Simmons greeted him, stepping aside a little so Wash could enter. “It’s Wash, Church!”

“Hey, Wash,” Tucker yelled back from somewhere within the kitchen while his roommate remained relatively quiet.

Wash took a few steps into the apartment and surveyed the room as Simmons closed the door.

Tucker had told him the place was small, though the main room they stepped into was a decent sized box. It held enough room for a faded couch, coffee table, and TV without getting too cramped. But there were no hallways as far as Wash could see, just three doors side by side to Wash’s left that he assumed led to the bedrooms and washroom. An open doorway opposite the entrance door let him catch a glimpse of the small kitchen before Wash turned his attention back to the occupants of the room.

Tex lounged on the couch with a diet Coke in her hand, looking the most relaxed Wash had ever seen her. She offered him a lazy wave when he spotted her, and the girl sitting at the foot of the couch by her gave him a smile.

“Hello,” the girl said. “I’m Sheila.”

“Hi,” Wash replied, trying to remember if he had ever seen her before. “I’m Wash.”

“Tex has told me a lot about the other lifeguards.”

“Oh, uh, how do you know Tex?”

“Met at university,” Tex provided. “Actually, Kai was saying the other day that Sheila should come play water polo for you guys.”

“Really?” Wash asked, not sure which part of that statement was the most surprising. Sheila nodded.

“Yes, I believe she said it would provide the team with more girl power. And while I’m very busy with school, I already know many of the players on the Reds and Blues so I’m sure I would have a lot of fun.”

“Well, we could always use more players,” Wash said, for they barely met the league’s requirements as they were at the moment. And Wash knew the players could use the occasional substitution so they didn’t drown from exhaustion.

“Hey, Wash!”

Wash startled as a grinning face and pink shirt filled his vision. Donut bounced up to him as the girls returned to their previous conversation. Simmons joined Donut a few seconds later as Wash got out a greeting.

“It’s great you were able to come out to this,” Donut said. “Now the whole team will be here, and this night is always such a great time for team bonding!”

Wash returned Donut’s own enthusiasm with a weak smile of his own, and Donut clapped Simmons on the shoulder. “Well, save some of your energy for when I get back, okay?”

“You’re leaving?” Wash asked, glancing down quickly at his watch.

The minute hand rested just past eight pm, and Wash had assumed the event would last late into the night knowing the attendees. The food hadn’t even been served yet and Donut didn’t seem the type to leave any kind of social gathering early.

“I’ve got to go help Doc bring the cakes over,” Donut explained. “We always do all of it ourselves, otherwise we might end up with plain or even ugly ones. So I’ve got to check the decorations are all fine one last time before we bring it on over.”

“Doc’s one of Tucker’s coworkers,” Simmons added when Wash looked confused. “And he’s friends with Donut.”

“Right. Andy’s another coworker of Tucker’s but well, when he gets mad he just explodes all over everyone, so Tucker never invites him. And if Palomo were here, it would be Tucker who exploded.”

With one last wave, Donut headed toward the door. Simmons just shook his head and moved off toward the kitchen where Wash could now clearly make out the sound of Church shouting.

“Seriously, Grif, if you don’t stop trying to give yourself food poisoning and ruin the dinner, I will pay Tex to rip your fucking arm off.”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

“Hey, Tex,” Church yelled out to the room as Wash took a few steps closer with his salad bowl. “I’ll pay you ten bucks to break Grif’s hand.”

“Make it thirty and you have a deal,” Tex replied, and Grif came out a few minutes later, muttering about the unfairness of it all.

He plopped down on the corner of the couch opposite to Tex and only took a minute for the bickering to start between him and Simmons. From underneath the coffee table, Grif pulled out a bag of Doritos and began to munch on them in between arguing with Simmons.

Wash shook his head a little and then entered the mess of the kitchen. Tucker and Church worked alongside each other at the counters, and both of their clothes had splotches of food stains on them. Tucker bent over meatballs while Church stood at the oven as he watched the sauce simmer. There were slices of cold garlic bread on the counter by Tucker’s elbow that Wash assumed Grif had been trying to take. That, or the completed meatballs near Tucker.

“Hey,” Wash said, and both looked up.

Tucker grinned at him, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. Church offered him a quick verbal greeting before adding some spices into the sauce after a muttered comment to Tucker that earned him a nod.

“Did you actually bring shit?” Tucker asked when he spotted the bowl in Wash’s hands. He tilted it so Tucker could see the greenery, and let a smirk spread on his face at Tucker’s groan. “Of course you fucking brought healthy stuff after I told you not to worry about it.”

“I figured someone should make sure we’re not just eating carbs,” Wash replied as he put the bowl in the fridge.

“It’s the weekend, dude! That’s prime carb time. And nobody is thinking about carbs when they’re eating spaghetti, just like you don’t buy cheesecake when you’re on a diet.”

The sound of a door being slammed cut off Wash’s reply, and a gruff voice called out,

“Your damn toilet’s making those weird noises again.”

“If you clogged it, Sarge, I will use your face as a fucking plunger!” Church yelled at him.

“Sarge?” Wash repeated, and then stepped to the doorway so he could see for himself. Sure enough, the older coach of the Reds was moving toward the kitchen after exiting the bathroom. He spotted Wash, blinked, and then offered Wash a small chuckle.

“Well well, if it isn’t Mr. Blue Lifeguard.”

“What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like I’m doing here? Getting ready for dinner of course!”

“Yes but,” Wash stopped and tried to ignore the way Tucker snickered behind him. “With the Blues? You go to these pasta days?”

“Of course I go to them, how could I leave my men to face those Blues all on their own?”

“Sarge, it’s literally just us eating pasta together,” Church said without looking up from the stove.

“Victory in every area of life!”

“The only competition will be at Halo after food!”

“And we will kick your ass,” Tucker cut in.

“Tucker stop encouraging him!”

“Ha,” Sarge said with a grin, ignoring Church’s comment. “Not even the promise of extra, devilishly delicious meatballs could persuade me from kicking all your keisters into the next gaming system!”

“Wait wait wait,” Wash said, holding up his hands as if that would make time stop. “Just, go back a second. You came because you were afraid the Blues would hurt the Reds here? Even though they clearly hang-out together all the time outside of water polo?”

Sarge crossed his arms over his chest and nodded as if he was a respected elder about to pass on an important tale to Wash.

“You Blues are cunning, I’ll give you that. You knew exactly how much of a dirtbag Grif is and used that to your advantage to get him to start coming to these things with the promise of food. And of course Simmons went along to keep the lazy dirtbag from dying, heaven knows why he would care if that happened. Then Donut heard about the culinary process and that drew him in, so the only path left to keep my men safe was to go along, too.”

Sarge offered Wash a smile that promised the possibility of utensil based violence. “Plus, you know what they say. Keep your friends close and your enemies within fork stabbing distance!”

“That’s not,” Wash began, and then shook his head. “You know what, never mind.”

Sarge just harrumphed and then headed over to where Grif and Simmons were by the couch. Wash turned back to where the two continued to work on the food.

“I’m not sure what I’m more surprised by,” Wash commented. “That Sarge is here, or that you’re this enthusiastic about cooking, Tucker.”

“Fuck off, dude, my cooking is awesome,” Tucker responded. He didn’t look at Wash but the smile was clear in his voice. “Gotta take pride in that.”

“When _did_ you learn to cook so much?” That earned Wash a one shoulder shrug before Tucker replied.

“My Aunt taught me. Was one of the few times we weren’t shouting at each other.”

Wash didn’t know what to say to that, but Tucker didn’t seem to expect a response. For a few minutes, Wash simply leaned against the doorway and watched the two work. They weren’t silent by any stretch, cursing and bitching at each other as they went, but none of the food burned and it all seemed to be going well from Wash’s limited point of view.

The sound of a door once more being shut drew Wash’s attention to the living room where he spotted two familiar people exiting from one of the bedrooms. Caboose walked with a little less strength than normal, but the same happiness as always lit up his face when he spotted Wash. Clinging to his leg while giggles streamed from his mouth was Junior.

Wash left the kitchen and headed over to the other player at Caboose’s eager greeting.

“Having fun?” Wash asked after Caboose finished chattering.

“Oh yes, Junior and I have been playing lots of games together because we both spilled last time we tried to help Church.”

“That’s good that you’re having fun,” Wash said as he crouched down so he would be eye level with Junior. The boy stared back, and Wash took it as a good sign that he hadn’t tried hiding his face in Caboose’s leg yet. “Hey, Junior. Remember me?”

“Wash,” Junior replied, and Wash felt a surprised smile stretch across his face. Junior didn’t let go of Caboose, but his facial expression remained happy. “You’re Daddy’s coach, and you have a lotta cats.”

“Yeah. Hey, would you like to see Mimi and Furbomb again?” Junior’s eyes widened and he nodded his head so hard Wash was afraid he might hurt his neck. “I don’t have them here, but I can show you pictures.”

Wash pulled out his phone from his jean pocket and glanced up at Caboose. “Are you okay with that, Caboose? Or did you want to keep playing?”

“Oh no, I would love to see your cats! I have been carrying Junior with my leg for a very long time and he doesn’t let go even when I am very tired.”

“Er, right, then this will give you a break.”

Wash clicked on his photo gallery and searched through it to find the pictures Junior would like. The boy loosened his grip on Caboose’s leg to lean forward a little more and Wash shifted closer. He handed Junior the phone carefully and then moved so he crouched behind Junior’s shoulder. All three of them were able to look at the cats that way, and Wash could lean over and flick to the next picture for them.

The place became louder and more chaotic the longer the night went on. Ten minutes after Wash began to show Junior the pictures, Kai walked in with a shouted greeting to everyone. The second Junior spotted her, he released Caboose and ran over to her. She gave him a massive hug, tossing him into the air and then setting him back down.

“Sup, cop,” Kai called to Wash as Junior sprinted back over. Even with their truce and the friendlier conversations they’d managed to have, she still oscillated between calling him a cop and an old man.

It didn’t take her long to join the other girls in the room, and Lopez arrived soon after. He too headed straight for the girls, taking a seat beside Sheila on the floor as she seemed to be one of the few people who actually understood his Spanish.

At the same time, Junior handed Wash back his phone and dashed into the kitchen to check on Tucker. Wash was left standing beside an excited Caboose, though he wandered off to Sarge when he spotted the older man standing by Church’s room with a drink in his hand. Wash remained where he was and watched the rest of the action unfold around him.

Kai talked eagerly to Tex and after a few moments, started to attempt to do a handstand. She couldn’t keep her legs perfectly straight, Tex giving her pointers while Simmons attempted to persuade her to stop before she hurt herself. Grif seemed unconcerned by the potential harm, alternating between teasing Kai and distracting a flustered Simmons.

Donut returned with the curly haired Doc in the midst of that, holding the acquired cakes high above his head as if they were the Olympic torch. They put them in the kitchen and then returned to the living room. The TV burst to life with Donut’s grabbing of the remote, and more noise joined the already present cacophony as Donut settled on some interior design show. He and Doc took a seat on the coffee table as they discussed the show. Meanwhile, Sarge remained trapped in conversation with a very loud Caboose who gestured along with the story.

But it was Junior who pushed the chaos from something Wash might witness at a Freelancer party, to an ecosystem of endless change in which Wash didn’t know where to place himself. Junior was a whirlwind of energy, dancing from one person to the next with laughter and eager stories for all the people giving him attention.

He scrambled up onto the couch beside Grif before proceeding to head-butt Grif’s stomach. Grif just grinned down at him as Junior giggled and nudged the water polo player a few more times. From there, Junior crawled over Grif’s lap to Tex, not a single shred of fear or wariness in his smiling face. He bounced up and down beside her until she offered him an open hand for him to high five as hard as he could.

When Junior climbed down into Sheila and Lopez’s midst, he received a hug from Sheila and appeared to try to parrot a few of Lopez’s words.

At Kai, he attempted to imitate her acrobatic moves. Junior made it halfway into a handstand before toppling over with a gleeful shriek. Kai laughed and offered to do another one with him while Simmons hovered anxiously. But when Junior tried again, Simmons was the one who held his legs and lifted them into the proper position as Junior laughed. Junior offered both of them a fist bump as initiated by Kai and then he ran off again.

He received some life advice to keep from becoming a lazy dirtbag from Sarge, and then a gulp of apple juice Caboose had gotten from the kitchen.

When Junior got to Doc and Donut, Doc crouched down to listen to Junior’s ten minute story. After, Donut explained what was happening on TV and listened to Junior’s opinions on which colour was obviously the best. Donut did his best to answer Junior’s questions about why all the rooms lacked cool superhero decorations.

Given that Junior didn’t know Wash as well as the others, it made sense that he didn’t come over to Wash as much as he did the others. But Junior still stopped by to ask why Mimi and Furbomb couldn’t come and who was watching them.

Junior went through the circuit several times, skittering quickly from one person to the next.He snatched a chip from Grif before dancing over to Simmons where he shoved the food in his mouth. Sheila and Simmons called for him to be careful not to choke as he went to ask Caboose for more juice. At one point, Junior crawled along the floor like a cat, meowing at everyone he passed as he went. When he had Caboose join in and pretend to try to catch him, Junior ran to hide behind everyone, shrieking and laughing as he went. Everyone played along as they waited for the food and shouted at Donut to change the TV station.

Amongst all of the Reds and Blues, Junior didn’t hide or retreat into shyness. Surrounded by familiar faces, he became as confident as Tucker and as friendly as Theta. It made Wash smile to watch even as he questioned where to place himself in such a close knit group.

Meanwhile, Tucker and Church continued to draw closer to completing the cooking. The meatballs were now in the simmering sauce and the noodles themselves being stirred. Church worked on getting the garlic bread into the oven while Tucker watched everything on the stove top.

“Hey.” Tucker turned around slightly at the sound of Wash’s hesitant voice, Church electing to simply ignore the intrusion. “You guys need help with anything?”

Wash stood in the doorway of the kitchen, his fingers twisting at each other slightly while he hunched in on himself to take up as little space as possible. The loud chatter from the room spilled over his shoulders and past his body as the heat from the stove warmed Tucker’s body. For a moment, Wash’s obvious vulnerability triggered an urge in Tucker to hug him, the desire as strong as a child’s when they saw their favourite stuffed animal.

The sudden sound of Junior’s wail rising above the rest of the noise drew all of Tucker’s attention, and the moment dissipated as quickly as it had come. Tucker swore, and gestured for Wash to enter the kitchen.

“Watch the stove,” Tucker ordered him, and cut him off before he could protest. “Dude, it’s fine. You just gotta stir everything occasionally, make sure the noodles don’t clump together or anything.”

With that, he sprinted into the living room and left Wash to the kitchen. Tucker returned a minute later, Junior clinging to his neck and wrapping his legs around Tucker’s waist. He rested his wet cheek on Tucker’s shoulder as Tucker moved to stand by Wash’s side. Church had disappeared to change into his clean clothes and Wash now stirred everything, glancing up as soon as Tucker returned.

“Is he okay?” Wash asked, concerned gaze going to Junior’s face.

“Yeah, fell off the back of the couch while Tex wasn’t looking. He’ll be right back at it soon–he goes from to low and high and vice versa pretty quick.”

Tucker hoisted Junior a little higher and smiled at him. “Plus, he’s been super pumped about getting to stay up as late as the adults for once. Right, buddy?”

Junior nodded, and little of his earlier eagerness returned.

“Can I have adult drinks too?” he asked, and Tucker laughed.

“Nah, not yet. Wait another fifteen years.”

“Fifteen years!”

Wash fought back a smile at the childish horror on Junior’s face.

“That’s right. But hey, Caboose is only allowed juice too, so you’re not the only one.”

Junior pouted but Tucker just ruffled his hair and turned his attention to the stove. Everything was nearly complete, but there was still an air of nervousness to Wash as if he expected to burn the spaghetti just by being near it. Tucker shook his head at him even though Wash had turned his gaze back to the food and wouldn’t see Tucker’s actions.

“One night a week, dude,” Tucker said, and Wash glanced at him. “Just give me one night a week and I will teach you how to cook in no time.”

“I feel like I should point out the fact that I’ve survived so far on my own in pretty good shape,” Wash replied drily. “But how can I say no to an offer like that?”

“A free one? Definitely can’t.” Tucker moved to pull out a thermometer for the meatballs from the drawer. “Sides, shit like that is great for picking up chicks.”

Tucker stuck the thermometer in and then, because he realized he didn’t know Wash’s preference, added, “And dudes too.”

Wash just rolled his eyes at him and a few seconds later, Tucker got him to drain the spaghetti in the strainers since Tucker’s hands were still full holding onto Junior. He did manage to turn off the burners with one hand though, while Wash handled the near industrial size pots of spaghetti. Since Grif could almost finish one pot all on his own, they always had to make at least two big pots worth.

Once that was taken care of, Tucker got Wash to ask if anyone wanted one of the diet Cokes Tex had brought. Junior still didn’t want to be put down, so Tucker moved them around the kitchen and Junior opened the cupboards to grab all the plastic plates and utensils. Tucker and Church had learned the hard way not to trust everyone with breakable items on pasta days. Plus, neither of them wanted to clean the dishes of that many people.

“Having fun?” Tucker asked once Wash came back to get the drinks. Tucker leaned against the counter to watch Wash’s reaction as he paused by the fridge.

“Everyone is very entertaining to watch,” Wash replied, and it was Tucker’s turn to roll his eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be watching, dude. This isn’t some documentary on the African safari or some shit.”

“I’m aware,” Wash said, though his cheeks flushed slightly. “I just–I didn’t want to intrude on any of the dynamics.”

“Wash, this entire group consists of loud, obnoxious assholes. Half of their conversations are interrupting someone else. Plus, you had no problem getting in on the water polo practices.”

“That’s true,” Wash said with a small smile.

“And I know Caboose will always be happy to talk to you,” Tucker added before heading to the doorway and shouting, “alright, assholes, come get the food I fucking slaved over.”

“Get me a plate, Simmons,” Grif said, and Simmons scowled at him.

“Get your own, fatass.”

Junior tugged at Tucker’s shirt as the others headed over, and Tucker lowered him to the floor. Junior headed to the counter where the plastic plates where while Wash got out the salad.

“Want me to help you get yours?” Tucker asked.

“For Grif,” Junior replied, and Tucker shook his head.

“You know you’re not supposed to enable him.” Tucker turned back to doorway as Church and Tex walked through. “Grif! What did you bribe my kid with?”

“Hell if I remember.” Tucker sighed but helped Junior make a plate for Grif, making sure to put extra salad on it.

Junior wandered off, staring down at the plate with an extreme look of concentration as if daring a single shred of food to fall from the plate. For ten minutes, the crowd of Reds and Blues crammed into the small kitchen. They elbowed and cursed each other while piling as much food as possible onto their plates. Then they all fought over seating in the living room, though nobody dared take the corner of the couch Tex had been on. Grif threatened to sit on anyone who tried to take his seat, and somehow Simmons managed to squirrel into the last seat between Tex and Grif.

Church perched on the armrest by Tex while Caboose sat at her feet. At the base of the couch also sat Kai, Sarge, and Junior. Tucker sat to Junior’s left, Wash beside Tucker, and Doc beside Wash around the coffee table. Across from them was Sheila, Lopez, and Donut, plates and drinks resting on the table.

“How is it, Junior?” Tucker asked a few minutes after everyone had begun digging into their plates of food.

“The best!” Junior replied, and stuffed a meatball into his mouth.

“What about you, Wash? Live up to your standards?”

“I’m worried if I compliment you, you won’t be able to fit through the door with your inflated self-esteem but I have to admit, this is really good.”

Tucker grinned at him, brushing his dreads back behind his shoulders so they didn’t get into the food.

“So how’s the salad?” Wash asked after a pause.

Tucker had to admit it wasn’t half-bad. Whatever dressing was on all the lettuce, tomatos, and olives moved it from bearable to delicious, and Junior had already devoured even more than Wash.

“Verdict so far is good. What do you think, Junior? You like the green stuff Wash brought?”

Junior chewed and then nodded. He stabbed a piece of feta cheese and held it up to them.

“I like this the best.”

“Feta cheese,” Wash told him. “Here.”

Wash took his plate and moved all of his feta cheese onto Junior’s. “You can have mine. I like the tomatoes best.”

“Man, you really like spoiling him,” Tucker said as Junior’s eyes lit up and he dug in.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one who instigated that–letting him stay up with everyone else? It is Friday after all.”

“You’re just trying to make him like you best,” Tucker teased while shaking his head. Wash just offered him a smirk before returning to his meal.

Soon the loud chatter from earlier filled the small room as everyone shouted across the table at anyone who would listen, not just the person sitting beside them. Sarge kept making comments to Lopez, and each time Donut attempted to translate, Lopez’s voice just sounded more frustrated and sarcastic. Junior kept grabbing at Sheila and Doc’s attention despite the distance that separated them, and Caboose would break in every other sentence. Tucker could see Kai showing Tex what he assumed was her Snapchat, based on the fact that her reply to Church’s question yesterday about how their workout had gone had been a simple, “didn’t you see her Snapchat?” He had no doubt many moments of tonight would end up on the app thanks to the two of them.

The meal continued, and Tucker watched Wash’s rare vulnerability and hesitation fade as the others drew him into the conversation. First Grif grabbed his attention, then Kai when she latched onto the train of vocal words, and soon the conversation turned into a communal one just like most of theirs. Wash’s tone was often more exasperated or confused than when he was with the other lifeguards, but Tucker could hear the traces of affectionbeneath it all.  

Once all the food was finished and the others had thanked Church and Tucker sufficiently, Doc and Donut carried out the cakes.

“You got three?” Wash asked as Donut revealed all of them.

“Fucking fatass over there eats an entire one by himself,” Tucker replied with a gesture at Grif.

“Hey, I pay Donut for it, so nobody can complain.”

“I want a cake too,” Junior said, eyes going wide at the triple chocolate one.

“Let’s see you finish your slice first, kay, bud?” Tucker replied. Junior never finished his slice, always leaving behind a mound of icing and mushed up cake bits.“Then we’ll talk whole cakes.”

Donut cut slices for everyone, accustomed to the chorus of shouts he received and managing to get everyone exactly what they asked for. Doc helped, his experience dealing with all the customers that came into Mother of Invention lending itself to the five minute chaos of getting everyone their dessert.

The cake devoured and everyone’s faces and hands clean, they moved onto the video games. Donut had brought his Wii U for the eight person **S** mash, and Church set up their PS3 to take turns playing Halo. It didn’t matter who was playing; everyone watching chirped and cheered so loud Tucker was almost concerned the neighbours would call in a noise complaint. Tex kicked all of their asses no matter what they played, and though Wash wasn’t as good as her, he was still better than most of them. After the first match the two of them played at the same time, Grif declared neither of them should be allowed to play on the same team or make under the table alliances.

“Like Tex is gonna listen to anything we say,” Church replied, and Tex just offered a smirk as she destroyed Tucker on screen.

Junior watched most of the action from Tucker’s lap, playing the occasional round of Smash in Tucker’s place. When he grew restless, Tucker excused himself to go help Junior get some toys from his room to play with at their feet. He scattered them all about the living room, and when Tucker, Wash, and Caboose weren’t playing a round of the video games, they played with Junior.

All of them remained content in that manner for a long time, though at one point Caboose began to wail that Junior bit him and was causing blood loss.

“There’s barely indents, Caboose,” Tucker assured him after Junior apologized and sat in time out for two minutes.

“It’s bleeeeeeding.”

“You’re fine, Caboose.”

“Two whole litres gone!”

“Caboose!”

Beyond that, Junior played peacefully while the others continued to shout at each other. Junior lasted even longer than the last time, eyes starting to droop around eleven pminstead of ten. By that point, he had returned to Tucker’s lap with a plushie of Hulk clasped in his arm. The others were still going strong, Sarge having brought out the case of beer he brought for everyone.

“Alright, time for bed,” Tucker said to Junior, and stood up as Church swore at him for blocking the screen.

Tucker offered him the middle finger as he stepped away, but the jostling caused the toy to fall from Junior’s hands. Before Junior could start to complain or Tucker reach down to grab it, Wash bent down and picked it up for them. He followed Tucker when Tucker just headed for his bedroom to put Junior to sleep.

The door shut on the swearing behind them, and Tucker flicked on the lights so he didn’t step on any of the various items on the floor. Wash gave Junior back his toy, but as soon as he had, the boy started to squirm in Tucker’s arms.

“Wanna show him my toys!” he declared, hands pushing at Tucker’s chest as if that would get him set down.

“You already showed him your toys.”

“Nuh-uh. Just some of them.”

Tucker glanced at Wash who just shrugged helplessly. Tucker sighed, but placed him on the floor.

“Alright, you’ve got five minutes,” Tucker told Junior. “Then bed.”

Junior nodded, and headed to the open bin of toys. Wash crouched down beside him as Junior described each of the toys despite the sleepiness weighing down his voice. Wash listened and commented on how cool all of them were, asking all the appropriate questions judging by Junior’s happy response. When Tucker told Junior the time was up, he climbed up onto the bed after grabbing two more toys to bring with him.

“No playing with them, okay?” Tucker said, and Junior nodded. “You want us to stay here till you fall asleep?”

Another nod, and Tucker sat down by Junior’s resting head. Wash hovered by Tucker’s shoulder, glancing around the room while Junior slowly drifted off.

“You guys do this every month?” Wash asked

“Yeah. Figure everyone could use a break from fast food and instant noodles.”

Tucker looked over and saw Wash smiling as he studied Junior.

“He’s really lucky to have all this,” Wash said softly, and gestured at the closed door. “All these people who care about him, I mean. He’s got a really a big safety net this way.”

Tucker stared at Wash. Tucker knew most people looked at Junior’s family situation and felt sorry for him. They looked at the community of twenty year olds and one fifty year old raising him on the weekends and shook their heads in pity. Such a community was simply a disaster waiting to happen in their minds, and he knew many of Junior’s mom’s friendsthought it would be better if Junior just lived with his mother and grandparents all the time. They thought if Junior did live with Tucker on weekends, Tucker should be much more responsible about who his friends were, the current choices lacking any benefits for Junior.

“Didn’t do much good catching him today,” Tucker finally got out. That event was much easier to focus on than the swell of emotions Wash’s words triggered.

“Well, everyone’s going to fall at some point. But he has plenty of people who will help him get back up this way.”

“Yeah well.” Tucker struggled to think of something nonchalant to say in the face of all the sentiment. “They fucking better after I gave them all that food.”

Wash laughed quietly at that, and Tucker felt some of the heavier emotions fade from the atmosphere. A part of him wanted to thank Wash for what he said, and for never judging ill of Tucker’s relationship with Junior after the initial impression. Another part of him wanted to simply run back to the world of animated violence and vulgar swearing so he didn’t have to deal with any of the finer emotions he was so good at fucking up.

“We’d better go before they break something,” Tucker said, pushing away his gratitude and the feelings tightening his throat for another time. “Or Tex breaks someone.”

He made sure Junior had enough blankets one last time before heading back into the noise with Wash at his side.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small edit to make: in the earlier chapters I said Wash comes in Tuesdays, but it should actually Mondays and Thursdays because Tucker works Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. Sorry about that guys!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter :)


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is there a problem?”
> 
> “No, not really. I was just wondering about–well–Epsilon seemed very nervous the first lesson.”

Wash normally got to the pool ten minutes before his shift. In the summer he had shown up fifteen minutes beforehand as expected, though he soon learned that no one else actually followed that rule. They all showed up five minutes before the start of their shift without a uniform on and full cups of Tim Hortons or Starbucks grasped in their hands.

The second Saturday of lessons for the second session of the fall, Wash got there that extra fifteen minutes early not out of a summer habit, but in the hopes that Vanessa Kimball would be there early as well. Both Theta and Delta had their private lessons at 8:30am, with the rest of the lessons spread out until the second last time slot that Carolina taught. While some parents or guardians arrived a good ten minutes before the lesson, others arrived ten minutes into the lesson.

Luck happened to be with Wash that day, for he spotted Vanessa sitting on the bench with Iota and Eta as soon as he arrived. Even better, the other children were still in the change room with Smith, or so Wash assumed. After a quick greeting to Tex who briefly asked how he had enjoyed the pasta day, Wash headed out on the deck.

“Ms. Kimball,” Wash said politely, and she looked up from the twins chatting beside her. “I’m Washington, Epsilon’s swimming teacher.”

“Oh, yes, nice to meet you.” When Wash hesitated over his next words despite having thought about how to best phrase them earlier, she asked, “Is there a problem?”

“No, not really. I was just wondering about–well–Epsilon seemed very nervous the first lesson.”

“Nervous?” Vanessa repeated, and then glanced at the two children beside her. She gave them a quick instruction to stay put until Katie came out, and then moved toward the guardroom with Wash. They stopped outside the entrance, far enough away to be out of the other children’s hearing range but close enough for Vanessa to keep an eye on the twins.

“Well, more hostile than nervous, I guess,” Wash admitted. “He seemed very defensive and I guess I wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

Vanessa frowned at him, and he couldn’t tell if she understood the meaning hidden beneath his words.

“He’s not the friendliest with anyone, but Theta, Delta, and the twins all like him. He’s gentler with them, I think.”

She offered Wash a smile. “Though I’m afraid I’ve only been babysitting him and the twins for two weeks so I don’t know them as well as the other children yet. He’s certainly more closed off than the younger children, though.”

“Do you know anything about his home life?”

Something flickered in Vanessa’s expression, but Wash couldn’t tell if it was surprise or wariness. He braced himself for a polite smile coupled with a quick dismissal, but after a few seconds, Vanessa’s expression softened with understanding.

“Oh,” she said. “Not very much. His parents are going through some rough marital patches right now and both of them work very late at night so he often gets picked up late. But I know they pack lunch for him every day, and you’ve seen him with a swimsuit on.”

“Yeah,” Wash replied as he saw Theta and Delta dash from the change room. Still no sign of Epsilon or the older kids, but Wash would have to start his aquafit soon, and he knew the other children might come over at any moment.

“As far as I can tell, they aren’t treating him badly, but thank you for checking,” Vanessa said, gaze following the direction his gaze moved in.

She offered him a genuine smile, and any hesitation he had felt over approaching the issue slipped away. He hadn’t told anyone else what he was thinking, though he had been tempted to ask Tex about Omega given the similar hostility. But from what he had heard from Tex before, there seemed something innately different that he wouldn’t have been able to explain to the others.

Belatedly, he wondered if he should have mentioned something to Tucker. The water polo player clearly knew something about children given how much Junior loved him and how well the child seemed to be doing. Wash knew how to teach children swimming and keep them occupied for forty-five minutes, but he still felt inadequate tackling any issues they might be having outside of the pool environment. And he didn’t think Epsilon’s issues were confined to forty-five minute lesson they had together.

“Thank you for taking me seriously,” Wash said.

“Of course. If there’s ever an issue, please let me or one of the others know.”

Neither had time to say much after that as Wash began the morning lessons. He taught an aquafit and then two lessons before Epsilon’s private lesson. The boy once again sat a little further apart from the other children, though he seemed to answer respectfully enough when Vanessa asked him a question before returning to the others.

Wash greeted him with as much cheer as he had the first day. Once more Epsilon seemed to hunch away from Wash’s approach, but he didn’t pause as long when getting into the pool. He moved a little more confidently when Wash asked him to do something, but still maintained a safe distance from the lifeguard and Wash respected the no touching rule once more.

Wash could read the boy’s face a little easier with each passing minute of their lesson, and he was about ninety percent certain the look Epsilon tried to hide every time Wash stopped him was anxiety. The boy was quick to make a smart comment in response, even if he tried to apply the tips Wash gave in an encouraging voice.

Halfway through the lesson, they were in the shallow end to review sculling for a break from the other strokes. Wash got two sentences in and then Tex’s voice interrupted him.

He turned around to see her crouching on the bulkheads behind them.

“Hey, Tex,” he greeted her, and moved closer so she wouldn’t have to shout.

“York needs help with his sea otter,” she told him. “One of the kids needs to be watched at all times while he works with the others. I can do it for the first fifteen, and you cover the last fifteen.”

“Right after this lesson?” he asked.

“Yeah. You won’t get that half hour break anymore, but at least you’ll get paid for the fifteen break you still get.”

“Fair enough,” Wash replied, and Tex offered him a nod. She headed off to where York was gathering his lesson and Wash turned back to Epsilon.

The boy watched Tex go, eyes gone slightly wide. Wash glanced between his expression and Tex’s back a few times in rapid succession, and Epsilon didn’t pay Wash any attention. He just kept staring and staring, until Wash cleared his throat.

“Huh?” Epsilon’s gaze shot to Wash as the boy’s cheeks became tinged slightly with red.

“Do you know Tex?” Wash asked, and Epsilon shook his head. His gaze darted back to where Tex climbed into the pool, and Wash felt a smile tugging at his own lips.

“What?” Epsilon snapped when he spotted the action, and Wash shook his head.

“Nothing,” Wash lied. The boy didn’t want to do any sharing, and so he certainly wouldn’t want to hear about Wash’s relief at witnessing what he assumed was Epsilon developing a crush on Tex as quickly as Theta seemed to bond with others.

Instead, Wash turned their attention back to the lesson and continued to be as patient and optimistic with Epsilon as he could.

***

The only thing that got Junior away from Tucker and into the pool that second Saturday was Tex showing up for the lesson. Junior might have liked York, but he didn’t know him well-enough for that affection to outweigh the terror the unruly children from last time had caused.

Tex, though, Junior knew well. More importantly, he knew she didn’t put up with any screaming children and could put Tucker and Church in a silent time-out, let alone another child. So when she headed out on deck toward York’s lesson, Tucker carried Junior right over to her. She smirked at Tucker, but wiped the look away as soon as a scared Junior met her gaze.

“You ready for the lesson, kiddo?” she asked him, and Tucker set him down.

“Just follow Tex, kay?” Tucker told him, and offered him one last hug.

Junior latched onto Tex’s hand the second Tucker took a step back, and Tucker watched her lead him into the pool with the other children and York. Then Tucker took a seat a few feet away from the edge of the pool. Not quite at the bleachers yet, but not right beside the pool water as he had last week.

Having Tex in the pool meant York could keep a firm grip on the rambunctious girl to keep her from escaping at every second, and still manage to teach the lesson. When it came time to practice, Tex helped the rest of the children while York tried to coax the one girl to listen.

Halfway through, Tex said something to York and then made to leave the pool. Tucker tensed, and his gaze quickly went to Junior. The boy didn’t talk to anyone in the class, and so he didn’t miss the way Tex began to move toward the ladder. He looked like he wanted to follow her, and his betrayed gaze searched for Tucker.

Before Junior could call out for him, Tucker spotted Wash arriving at the ladder Tex climbed out of. Tucker quickly pointed Junior’s attention toward them, and judging by the way his son went still and attentive at the sight, he remembered Wash fairly well.

It had only been a night since pasta day, after all, and judging by Junior’s desire to show Wash all his toys, the boy had loved Wash’s presence at the event.

Tucker crossed his fingers, and felt a grin grow on his face when Wash started to get into the pool. He headed over to York, who offered his co-worker a relieved smile and then called all the children’s attention to Wash.

Thirty seconds later, York started the kids on their front glides, and Wash stepped forward to help everyone. For once, Junior’s hand shot into the air to go first, and Wash went over to help him with a smile. Tucker watched Wash hold him as he did his glide, and Tucker could well imagine the soft tone Wash would be using.

By that point, Tucker was well-versed in the many different voices Wash had. Wash had several lifeguard ones alone, not to mention the ones for outside of work. There was his no nonsense one he used when he first met Tucker and whenever he insisted a patron not do something. He had one for the kids he taught and his aquafit, which were terrifyingly similar in the enthusiasm he forced into both of them. There was the one he used for emergencies, unnerving in the cold calm coating every word.

Then there was the way he spoke with his fellow lifeguards out of hearing range of the patrons, and the way his voice got pushed high and squeaky at their water polo practices from frustration.

The best voices were the ones Wash used outside the pool when he spoke with Tucker. A tired smile on his face and exasperation in his tone when he stopped in at the café. Dry teasing and implied laughter in the text messages he sent. And finally there were the more rare ones, where Wash’s voice got quiet in his honest vulnerability like when he told Tucker about his family at his house, or spoke about Junior as the child drifted off beside Tucker at the end of pasta day.

The chime of his phone broke Tucker out of his thoughts, and he pulled it out to type out a quick reply to Kai. Then he clicked on another message thread.

 _Guess who just became Junior’s fucking co-teacher for swimming lessons?_ Tucker texted Church, grinning down at the screen as he typed.

 _You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,_ Church’s reply came through within seconds.

Tucker didn’t even bother to reply, shoving his phone back into his jean pocket and returning his attention to the lesson. Suddenly, getting through the rest of the session seemed within the realm of possibility.

***

Ten minutes into the second lesson, Carolina realized she needed a new strategy.

She had already given Eta and Iota two time-outs at separate times, having them sit on the edge of the pool while the other swam for two minutes. The girls took no pleasure in being told off or being put in time-out. Each time it happened, their expressions shifted into that of a scared child who’d been separated from their parents in a grocery store.

Both of them would sit quietly, and when Carolina let them back into the pool, their silence would continue. While this meant they listened more readily to Carolina’s instructions and weren’t as distracted, their actions lacked the same eager energy from before. Without it, their kicks were sloppy and they stopped for a gasped breath even earlier than normal.

The second their energy returned, though, the same problem would occur. It didn’t take longer than a couple minutes for them to return to their affectionate and talkative states. They forgot the consequences that awaited them for continuing to be distracted and jumping onto Carolina, a look of surprised betrayal consuming their expressions the second time she gave them a time out.

Carolina might be stubborn, but she could see when a plan wasn’t working, and she refused to let the girls unintentionally sabotage their lessons for the entire session.

“Girls, I need you to listen closely, alright?” Carolina said as they bounced in the shallow end. Both of their gazes went to her right away, and Iota nodded her head furiously in response.

“I know you both really like hugging and asking questions,” Carolina continued when they remained quiet. “But this is swimming time. So, what I need you to do is swim as much as you can. I bet you can make it five minutes doing only swimming.”  

“I can do longer than that!” Iota piped up, hand twisting in the folds of her blue skort.

“That’s five minutes of swimming _without_ grabbing onto anyone or asking questions that aren’t super important. And if you make it five minutes, I will give each of you a hug and answer _one_ question.”

“What if we don’t do five minutes?” Eta asked, and she glanced up at the massive clock on the wall.

“Then you get a time-out, and you can’t do either of those things.”

Iota’s mouth fell open, and Carolina wondered how the girl normally got through her school day and her time at Vanessa’s given her tendencies toward physical affection. North’s private seemed like he wouldn’t mind the physical affection, but the others were all much pricklier than the small boy. And any school teacher would need Iota to sit down and keep to her own work at some point during the day.

“I think you can do it,” Carolina told them.

“Really?” Eta asked, frowning at her teacher for the first time since they’d met.

“Of course.” She glanced up at the time and then back at the two of them. “Weren’t you telling me you could walk on your hands for five minutes last week? This should be easy for you.”

“Yeah!” Iota agreed, her lips pressing together in determination as she straightened in the water. “I wanna go first!”

Carolina got them started on their back glides after explaining they also couldn’t ask her if five minutes had passed yet, or she would start the time all over again. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see York continually glancing over as he cleaned the pool deck. He had offered to talk about it with her if she needed help, but she had declined for the time being. If she couldn’t figure it out after three lessons, then she would consider outside help.

Carolina’s plan was somewhat successful. The girls both lasted five minutes one time, intermixed with two more timeouts. When they were successful, Carolina hugged them back and forced any exhaustion from her voice when she answered their question. In return, Iota’s whole face lit up as she looked up at her and Eta gave Carolina a large smile.Their excitement seemed to make them forget the rules only two minutes later, but Carolina hadn’t expected instant success.

Before she dismissed them for the day, she reminded them of the new rules. Five minutes without interrupting their swimming practice to the point of extended distraction, and they would get a reward. Causing such elongated interruptions meant they had to sit on the side again.

“I bet you guys can even do it for ten minutes if you try hard,” she added at the end, and then said they could go.

“Do we get a hug now, too?” Iota asked, instead of flinging herself at Carolina as she had the first day.

“If you promise you’ll behave for Kimball and everyone today,” she told them.

Both of them bobbed their heads up and down, and Carolina’s smile was genuine as she leaned down to give them each a hug.

She headed toward the guard room, nearly running right into Maine and Wash who stood a few feet away from the door. Maine had his back to the room, signing frantically at the frowning Wash.

“Everything alright?” she asked them. Wash startled, but offered her a smile.

“Yeah, no worries, boss. Maine was just telling me about this super scary horror movie he watched last night.”

Judging by the scowl Maine gave the younger guard, that wasn’t the honest answer, but Carolina let them be. Wash turned back to Maine as she entered the guardroom.

“Are you sure?” he asked Maine. “I haven’t vacuumed in a bit so your allergies might–”

_Don’t care. As long as the twins aren’t there._

“They’ve really been that bad?”

_I will kill one of them if I don’t get a break from them._

“Christ.”

Wash shoved a hand through his relatively short hair. Maine was pretty accustomed to the Dakota twin’s habits after living with them for so long, and knew how to get through the periods of high stress that triggered the worst of the twins’ fighting. If he couldn’t put up with it anymore, the level of passive aggressive and outright fighting was beyond anything Wash ever wanted to get involved in.

“What have they even been fighting about?” Wash asked, and Maine shrugged.

_Everything. School’s stressing North so he’s mom-ing even more than usual. They were yelling about Theta yesterday, about their family last weekend. Phone call from dad set South off._

“Let me guess, she didn’t like how North reacted to the call,” Wash said.

In the short period of time he had known the twins, he very quickly learned that family wasn’t a topic either of them were particularly fond of discussing. From what he did know, they liked their mom fine, their dad was an asshole, and South didn’t think North was vehement enough in his dismissal of their dad.

_North said stupid stuff._

Wash raised an eyebrow at his friend, unable to resist asking even though it was nearing time for the rec swim to start and for him to go home.

“Stupid stuff?”

_Stuff that he would have realized would make her mad if he had gotten more than three hours of sleep the night before._

Wash winced at that because angry Dakota twins were one thing, but angry, _sleep-deprived_ Dakota twins was another monster entirely.

“Furbomb will be so happy to see you,” Wash told him, and Maine offered a smirk in return. “Hey, do you want me to see if Connie can come over too? It’s been awhile since all three of us hung-out.”

She’d been more distance since she quit, busier in her schedule and quieter in her texts. But she still studied with Wash and Chris, still messaged Wash, and still wanted to hang-out with him.

 _Yeah. Mimi will be jealous otherwise._  

“I’ll let her know to bring some Twizzlers,” Wash said, and Maine grinned.

***

The third time was school’s fault.

Simmons hadn’t spoken with Grif the entire night after the second kiss, and Grif hadn’t reached out to him. The following morning, Simmons decided to simply go with the strategy he’d been using for years when it came to his growing feelings for Grif. Ignoring it.

So the next morning he texted Grif a message about the idiotic people he hated in his lecture as he normally would, and carried on with his day. A reply came through a couple hours later, no mention of the kiss in the locker room, and from there their usual pattern of interaction began again.

The night of the third incident, Simmons sat at the small table in the kitchen of Grif’s apartment. Textbooks were spread across the surface, and notes covered any other available space. Simmons balanced his laptop on his knees as he wrote out his answers, frustration mounting with each one. His midterm was tomorrow, and no matter how much he studied, he didn’t feel prepared. Anxiety struggled to fill him completely, sink its hooks into his mind and tear it in different directions. He kept trying to push the sensation away, but with each passing minute and each new question, it became harder and harder to do.

Someone else might have looked at his past record of marks, all within the high eighties and nineties, and reasoned this test would be no different. They would remember this happened before almost every evaluation, and somehow Simmons managed to get through most of them without the result he feared.

But that someone was not Simmons.

Instead, Simmons sat on a rickety chair in the dim light with his head in his hands, fingers digging into his scalp as if to physically pull out the answers he knew he had somewhere in there.

“Are you seriously still at it?”

Grif’s voice broke through everything else clawing at Simmons, and he slowly lifted his head. Grif stood above him, glancing down at the textbooks and then Simmons face. “Seriously, dude, it’s almost midnight and you’ve been at this shit for hours.”

“My midterm’s tomorrow morning,” Simmons reminded him.

“Exactly. You should be taking a nap or chilling out, not stressing till you forget everything.”

“It’s _tomorrow_ ,” Simmons repeated, as if saying it again would make Grif understand the degree of panic the statement was causing him.

“I got it, Simmons. But seriously, we both know you’re gonna do fine once you’re in there and have the questions in front of you.”

Grif offered him a smirk in an attempt to draw him out of the stress Simmons had lost himself in. “Just tone down the kiss-assing and spend two hours on the whole thing, not just one question.”

Grif expected a verbal response, Simmons knew that. A snapped back reply, defense of his actions, or a comment on Grif’s comparative laziness. All three of those things would be enough to push the anxiety away from the forefront of Simmons’ mind, if only for a second.

Instead, Simmons grabbed the front of Grif’s shirt and pulled down as hard as he could. Caught off guard by the sudden action, Grif instinctively followed the motion while Simmons stretched up in his seat until they were kissing.

It should have been desperate, yet in some ways it was softer than the ones before. Simmons didn’t push any further than the first press, and his hand loosened in the fabric of Grif’s shirt. Grif’s own hand came up to cover it, and the other landed on Simmons’ shoulder for balance.

For a few precious seconds, Simmons was able to forget even the grades which ruled so much of his life and the measure of his success.

But kissing someone he knew he shouldn’t brought with it a stress even larger than the one his midterm caused him.

So he pulled his face away and shoved at Grif’s chest at the same time. Simmons returned his gaze to his textbooks right away, ignoring his flushed cheeks and desperate desire for _more_.

“I have to study,” he said, and didn’t dare look up again until he heard the sound of Grif’s footsteps moving away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When hired as a lifeguard in the summer, part of the dryland training discussed child abuse, and there is a section in our policy manual that also outlines child abuse and what to do if we see any indications of it. Since lifeguards/swimming instructors see kids in bathing suits, they will see areas of skin that could be bruised that clothes would normally hide, and they also may build a rapport with children they see every day leading to the children revealing things they might not have told others. Any suspicions are supposed to be reported to managers who will help the lifeguard get in contact with the right services, though they would keep the lifeguard's identity anonymous while investigating the claim. Hopefully though, Wash's reasoning for approaching Kimball before he approached Tex or Carolina makes sense. 
> 
> Because it is an issue that many would not want to read about and not knowing if it will happen may cause anxiety, I will say upfront that Epsilon's parents are not abusing him. 
> 
> Other notes: At the city I work for, you are only paid for fifteen minute breaks. Anything over that you aren't paid for, which is what Tex was talking about with Wash.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dude, you sent up an exhibition match with my co-worker?”

On Tuesday morning, Tucker found Church already awake and in the kitchen when Tucker got up for water polo practice. His roommate sat at the kitchen table with his hands wrapped around a mug filled with coffee long gone cold. He stared at the still liquid even when Tucker stumbled into the room with a curse as Tucker stubbed his toe on a textbook.

“Did you leave some for me?” Tucker asked, and that startled Church out of whatever daze he’d been lost in. He glanced at Tucker but didn’t bother to answer vocally. Tucker just rolled his eyes at him and headed over to their machine. “Thanks, asshole.”

He poured himself a cup and then began to search the cupboards for his cereal. After securing his bounty, Tucker turned his attention back to his quiet roommate.

“You coming to practice today?” Tucker asked after taking a seat at their unstable table. He shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and Church shook his head.

“Gotta get some assignment done before class,” Church replied, pausing to yawn halfway through.

Tucker took a closer look at Church, noting the slump of his shoulders and the puffiness of his red-tinged eyes. Tucker thought he had heard someone walking around the apartment last night, the static of TV and panicked shouts sneaking into his dreams and dragging him into a state where he couldn’t accurately judge his own level of consciousness.

“You not sleep much?” Tucker asked.

“My room was a fucking freezer,” Church muttered. “Couldn’t get comfortable at all.”

Tucker just nodded. He had the timeline of Church’s nightmares memorized by that point, but he knew Church would never bring them up during both daylight and sobriety. Though at least both of them knew Tucker was aware of Church’s abnormal sleep schedule given their sharing of a room in first year, and Tucker didn’t have to feign ignorance on it.

“Alright, well apparently we’re having an exhibition game today,” Tucker told him. “So I’d better go. Wash and Sarge wanted us there earlier.”

Church looked up at that.

“Wash managed to get another one? Are they bigger assholes than Felix and Locus?”

“Fuck if I know, but I’ll stage a protest if they are.”

Church smirked at that, and Tucker headed back into his room to get all of his stuff. He offered Church half a wave as he exited their apartment, Church calling after him to make sure Caboose didn’t drink too much pool water.

Tucker made it to the bus stop on time, and the near empty bus rumbled along until Tucker was nearly asleep again before it reached the pool. Nobody else was in the locker room, even though Tucker thought he had been making good time. Hell, even with Simmons’ constant prodding, Grif still managed to be the slowest one to get ready nearly every day.

On the deck, Tucker couldn’t see any sign of the team they were supposed to be playing, only his own team huddled at the far side of the diving tank. Tucker called out to them as he went, and when he reached them, he stopped in surprise.

“Sheila?” he asked at the sight of Tex’s friend standing between Caboose and Kai. She offered Tucker as polite a smile as always.

“Hello, Tucker,” she greeted him. “How are you?”

“Kai and Tex suggested she play for us,” Wash explained after Tucker got out a reply. “At the pasta day, actually.”

“Isn’t that awesome?” Kai said, grin on her face as she hung off Sheila’s arm. “She’s gonna kick so much ass with me!”

“Kai and Tex thought it would be a good chance to expand my social circle,” Sheila elaborated, seeming perfectly at ease with the overt affection the younger girl showed her. “Apparently I am in the lab too much to be healthy. And I also thought it would be a fun way of exercising.”

“And now we don’t have to just rely on Donut for translations,” Simmons muttered although Lopez remained absent for the time being.

“Sheila can do so many amazing things,” Caboose added. His happiness at having Sheila present pushed away the sad expression that normally painted his face whenever Tucker showed up without Church. “Everyone will be so happy to play together.”

“Right,” Wash cut in before Caboose could begin a tangent. Tucker looked over at him and noticed the circles beneath Wash’s eyes were even darker than Church’s, though he managed to hold himself a little more upright than Church. “Well I figured everyone should get here before the other team so we all knew about Sheila beforehand, even though you guys all already know her.”

Wash glanced over all of their shoulders and Tucker took that time to check that everyone had shown up. The others had seemed quieter than normal, especially Sarge, but only Lopez and Church were missing. Only a second later, Tucker heard an insult spew from Sarge’s mouth, bringing the air of normalcy back to their gathering.

“Looks like they’re here,” Wash said, at the same time someone suddenly shouted from across the pool,

“Tucker, hey!”

“Oh god no,” Tucker replied, the words an instinctive reaction simply to the sound of the specific voice.

“I didn’t realize _you_ were on this team! This is great!

“Really, Palomo?” Tucker shouted as he whirled around to see his co-worker walking across the bulkhead toward them. Palomo waved as he went, speedo and swim cap on. “ _You’re_ on a water polo team?”

“Yeah, don’t you remember me telling you and Doc about it?” Palomo said as he reached them, all of the others glancing back and forth between the two.

Tucker blinked at him. He could vaguely recall Palomo and Doc discussing extra-curricular activities, but Tucker usually slipped into daydreams during their conversations.

“To be perfectly honest, Palomo, I wasn’t paying attention. At all.”

Tucker turned back to Wash before Palomo could get out another word, accusation slipping into his tone as he said,

“Dude, you sent up an exhibition match with my co-worker?”

“Actually, it was Kai who helped me find another team to play against,” Wash said, some of his confusion fading in the face of Tucker’s sudden hostility. Tucker raised an eyebrow at Kai, who had simply offered Palomo a cheerful wave in return when she saw him.

“You know Jensen and Volleyball, Tucker,” Kai said.

“Those hot friends of yours we sometimes party with?” Tucker guessed. “The ones you met during the university’s open house?”

Tucker had hung out with them and Kai a few times, though most of the times had involved copious amounts of alcohol and shenanigans nobody ever believed when he told stories about them. Everyone who lived in Kai’s apartment knew them even better than Tucker, for they often hung out at Kai’s for a few hours before going someplace else.

“Yeah!” Kai said. “Well _they_ got on a water polo team but it was after I started playing with you guys and I didn’t wanna just ditch. But then Wash was asking me about anyone who’d want to play against us, so I got Jensen to give me their coach’s email for Wash and it turns out they already knew each other!”

Tucker blinked a little at the unexpected conclusion and Wash opened his mouth with protestation written in his furrowed brows. Before anyone else could get a word out, Palomo’s shout interrupted them.

“Hey, Coach, over here!”

They all turned to see the rest of Palomo’s team heading toward them. There weren’t very many of them, though Tucker did recognize Jensen and Volleyball right away. The others were all guys Tucker had never met before, though Kai smiled at all of them. It was hard to tell if the smile derived from familiarity or the endless cheer she greeted most new people with.

Leading all of them with a polite smile was somebody else Tucker knew.

“Hey, Kimball,” Tucker said when she stopped in front of them. “ _You’re_ their coach?”

“Hello again, Tucker,” she said as she offered a hand for Wash to shake, and then shook Sarge’s when he moved to stand by Wash’s other side. “And yes, I’m this team’s coach.”

“So you spend all day and night taking care of a shitload of kids, and then you get up super early to coach people like Palomo in water polo? Fuck, you’re even crazier than I thought.”

“I told you, I like to keep busy,” Kimball said, calm tone never wavering for a second in the face of Tucker’s words. “And I only babysit after school hours and on the weekends. That leaves my mornings and days free.”

“Still.” Tucker shook his head. “I wouldn’t wanna do it.”

“It’s not for everyone,” Kimball agreed. “How is your child doing?”

“He’s good, already wants there to be snow.” Tucker turned to Wash, who seemed to be listening to the exchange with amused confusion while the others simply seemed bored. “So how do you two know each other?”

“I teach one of the kids she babysits.”

“Oh yeah, the private lesson,” Tucker said, for it had been one of the many topics they’d discussed both over text and in person in the past couple weeks.

“How do you two know each other?” Wash asked.

“She came into the café and I recognized her from Saturday mornings,” Tucker said with a shrug.

“Jesus Christ, is that how you meet everyone?” Grif asked from behind them, but Wash spoke up before Tucker could respond.

“One of the team members actually works here as well.” He gestured to a slouched over boy with orange tips in his hair. “Bitters works as cashier in the evenings, so that’s probably why none of you have ever met him.”

“Hey,” Bitters said after a few seconds in which everyone stared at him.

“Andersmith and Jensen help Vanessa out with babysitting.”

“Nice to meet everyone,” Andersmith said as Jensen gave all of them a familiar greeting.

“So you all play in the league?” Sarge asked.

“We played in the summertime,” Kimball explained. “Though we’ve been having trouble keeping constant players beyond the ones here now.”

Tucker glanced over at his coworker and realized he had never seen Palomo upset until then. The younger man always came into work with a smile and obnoxiously loud questions about how Tucker was, but now he frowned at the ground and tapped his fingers on his hips.

“Guess we have similar issues then,” Tucker said, glancing at Wash. “Wash and Sarge keep complaining about the required numbers for the league or whatever.”

“We should be okay now,” Wash assured him. “But even so, Vanessa’s team has played in the league, and since they were just as eager to play, I thought an exhibition game would be a good idea.”

“Just so long as none of you are dirtbags like that Felix,” Sarge said.

Everyone grimaced at the name, and Kimball explained that they were known by everyone in the league as one of the dirtier and rougher teams. Nobody liked playing against them, but they never did enough within the referees’ sights to be banned permanently by the league.

After both teams were given a chance to warm-up, the match began with both Kimball and Wash acting as referee. Tucker spotted York watching with interest from the other tank, and North kept glancing up at them from where he sat on his phone in the guardroom. The whistle to begin blew, and then Tucker didn’t have time to spare attention to much beyond the game.

Kimball’s team wasn’t particularly skilled, their level similar to the Blues and Reds before Wash and Sarge starting working together, and Wash tried to motivate them. What they lacked in experience they made up with in an overwhelming enthusiasm that the Reds and Blues still didn’t possess.

Except for Bitters, who was as lazy as Grif, and who always tried to drown Palomo in a similar manner to Church with Tucker. They were constantly shouting at each other, Palomo as oblivious as always to the annoyance he caused, yet Tucker saw hints of fondness for him on everyone’s faces. In one of the most open displays of affection Tucker had yet to see from her, Kimball did nothing to hide her fondness for all the members of her team as she shouted out the occasional encouragement and spoke with Wash on the sidelines. 

The Reds and Blues worked even better together than Kimball’s team, as the last couple weeks of joint practices began to pay off. Despite all the insults and arguing, the Reds had always played well as a unit, feeding the ball to Grif and Sargewhen they were open, and supporting Donut in the defensive position. After practicing and playing against them, it didn’t take long for the Blues to incorporate themselves into the gaps, arguing all the while. The addition of Sheila did nothing to negatively impact their flow, and Tucker wondered if her previous association with them helped that. She seemed the best at reading the play and guessing correctly at what would happen next, slipping into the spots she would be needed without colliding with anyone on their team.

On the opposite side, Kimball’s team had a goalie who only introduced herself as Lady Bones, not a hint of teasing in her voice. Bitters and Andersmith played defense, with Andersmith constantly moving up and down sidelines to provide support. Volleyball and Jensen were the strongest offensively, though Jensen was more likely to accidentally elbow the opposite team than score.

“Sorry!” she called to Simmons for fifth time while Kai laughed. Her apology didn’t stop her momentum though, as she continue to swim down the sideline to take a close shot.

Volleyball spoke much less than the rest of her teammates, though Tucker already knew of that particular personality trait from the little time they had spent together. Out of all of them, she and Andersmith possessed the most athletic build, and Volleyball carried the ball with a determination that outmatched everyone else in the pool.

“Is this revenge for that last party?” Tucker asked after she viciously shoved her way past him and scored on net.

“Nah, watching you get smashed off my tequila was pretty good revenge on its own,” she replied, with a slight grin. “I just don’t like losing.”

“I still say you’re on the wrong team for that,” Bitters called to her.

“Don’t try and send her away, Bitters!” Palomo replied where he held onto the bulkhead. He spent much of the time flailing along beside his teammates, able to move fast but panicking whenever he got close to the goal.

“I’m just saying–”

They were all interrupted by the sound of Caboose calling “Mr. Muffin Man!” as he passed the ball to Donut. Everyone scrambled back into position and the play began anew.

Despite any goals they managed to gain, Kimball’s team couldn’t hold onto the lead for very long at any point in the game. Nearing the end of the game, Tucker made a joke about all of the Blues and Reds having had Redbull that morning, for none of them had a bad game. There were the usual fumbles and curses at each other, but they worked as a team to outmaneuver everyone and score goal after goal.

For once, Sarge barely had any plays to insult Grif over, and Simmons didn’t panic trying to guard every player. Donut’s passes possessed perfect aim and Caboose just smiled as usual when he dove and leapt for every shot. Tucker, Kai, and Grif worked well on offensive together, with Sheila’s shots turning out to be so powerful they caused a smacking noise anytime Lady Bones managed to stop them.

They were all grinning by the end, laughter spilling from lips alongside the insults. Even though they lost, Kimball’s team didn’t seem upset. Their words of ‘good game’ at the end seemed genuine, and Kai simply dragged her friends over to the Reds’ side with her. Kimball thanked all of them for a good game, and Tucker grinned the widest when he saw the pride in Wash’s smile as he met Tucker’s gaze after. 

“Even better than watching a hockey match, huh, Wash?” Tucker teased as he remained hanging off the side of the pool and Wash crouched down on deck.

“I don’t know, I can’t eat food on the pool deck,” Wash replied, clamping down on his smile a little.

“Do you actually eat shitty food when you watch hockey like the rest of us mortals?”

“Hockey is a treat,” Wash responded as Tucker pulled himself out of the pool. Wash offered a hand that Tucker took to climb back onto his feet.

“I just figured your overly sweet caffeinated drinks were like your monthly sugar intake.”

“Those are necessary to survive so I don’t count them as much as I should,” Wash admitted, and Tucker shoved at his shoulder once Wash released his hand.

“Welcome to being a normal university student. Glad to see there’s a bit of it under all your lifeguard intensity.”

“You’re never going to stop teasing us about that so called intensity are you?”

“Dude, you work on the same staff as Tex and about half of you are only one tier below her in terrifying physical capabilities. Also, you have been Mr, Just-Try, since day one so no, joke will never be old.”

“As long as it’s just a joke,” Wash said in a quiet tone that made Tucker wonder if Wash had even meant to say the words out loud.

Tucker went still to stare at him, but Wash was already turning his attention to Caboose who chatted happily with an interested Andersmith. Unable to determine what Wash meant by his words, Tucker turned his attention back to the rest of his team.

***

The fourth time was adrenaline’s fault.

Grif and Simmons were walking to campus after their exhibition game against Kimball’s team. Grif had been the slowest to get changed as per usual, though often the others would wait around as well. Kai never seemed particularly eager to get to her classes, even when she liked them, but she had gone off with Jensen and the others. Donut had been dragged along while Sarge remained to speak with Kimball. Caboose kept Tucker busy, and the two wandered off to the café before Tucker would return to the pool for aquafit. Nobody knew where Sheila disappeared to, but she had thanked all of them for letting her play and complimented them on a good game before vanishing.

So it was just the two of them walking toward campus for their first classes of the day. They discussed the game eagerly as they went, the thrill of victory carrying their words rapidly from their mouths and lending a near bounce to Simmons’ walk.

“No way, that was top ten at most,” Simmons said in response to Grif’s latest assertion of which play should be in the top three best plays for the game.

“Are you kidding? I had to get around Andersmith _and_ Volleyball to get off that shot.”

“ _Sheila_ had to get around them–you just waited for her to pass the ball to you.”

“Yeah, and then I had to get it past their terrifying goalie.”

Simmons rolled his eyes and Grif knocked his shoulder. Simmons scowled at him, but the negative emotions were surface level at most and he knew Grif could see that.

“Alright, smartass, what do you think the top three were?” Grif asked.

They turned left onto a small side street, no one in sight yet as the rest of the world began to scramble inside their homes to prepare for work. Simmons glanced up at the blue sky stretching above them and let the sight buoy his already ecstatic mood.

“Well obviously my assist for that final goal needs to have a spot–”

“Of course,” Grif said sarcastically, but nothing could dim the adrenaline that still pounded through Simmons.

“After that it’s really tough–I can’t decide between Sarge’s passing during our second goal–”

“You know, you don’t need to continue being a kissass when he’s not around–”

“–one of Tucker’s drives down the sideline, or Caboose’s epic save when Jensen and Palomo came at him during the second half and Jensen got off that really fast shot.”

“How generous of you.” Grif offered him a smirk. “You gonna name yourself MVP?”

“Well, as amazing as my game was, I think Sheila probably deserves it. She moved faster than all of us and was always there with a pass.”

“She’s a fucking tank,” Grif agreed, pace a slow amble along the sidewalk as always despite the excitement underlying his tone of voice. “But what else can you expect from someone who became Tex’s friend by choice?”

They turned onto another residential street, the presence of other university students not yet invading the neighbourhood. A few more minutes and they would reach the litter filled streets that encased the university’s campus in a solitary bubble of student life.

“But really, Simmons,” Grif continued. “You’re gonna put your fucking assist in the top three, but my goal is only top ten?”

“You and Kai _always_ score goals, Grif. And besides, that was a tough assist of many to make! I was surrounded and Volleyball was coming up behind me and Jensen was right in front of me and you know how nervous she makes me outside of water polo–I had to duck around her and Bitters before I could get the pass off to Tucker who was practically on the other fucking side of the pool–”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, Simmons,” Grif said, though the dismissiveness was lacking from his tone. He grinned at Simmons, the usual degree of friendly mockery in it, but something else written in the creases at the corners of his eyes. “You were actually pretty decent for once, nerd.”

The adrenaline still coursed through him, and it latched onto the compliment the second the words entered Simmons’ ears. The words were repeated over and over again, the warmth they carried infusing every nerve before the adrenaline tripled the happiness such warmth triggered. Simmons paused for only a second, and in that second, he realized the other emotion hiding in Grif’s facial expression was pride.

The realization carried him forward, and the adrenaline pushed his lips to Grif’s. They stumbled with the sudden motion, moving back until Grif’s back hit a streetlight. Throughout it all, Simmons kept both his hands on Grif’s shoulders, kissing even harder when Grif’s mouth parted beneath his.

Simmons’ light mood grew even brighter with the touch of another’s lips, and the grip of Grif’s hands on his waist.

But brightness would only make it easier for others to see them, and the rays of the sun above seared into Simmons’ exposed neck. The hands that previously dug into Grif’s shoulders shoved away from them, and Simmons nearly fell in his hurry to back away from Grif.

Adrenaline transformed into panic in the time it took for Simmons to blink, and he whirled away from his repeated mistake. He started to stride away as fast as he could without outright running, vision growing blurry and thoughts careening into each other every time Simmons tried to form a coherent one.

“Simmons, wait!”

A hand wrapped around Simmons’ wrist, jerking him to a halt. Simmons didn’t turn around, unable to focus on anything but keeping himself breathing. The warmth of Grif’s grip slowly seeped into his skin, and Simmons wanted to pull away before he became too addicted to the sensation.

“It won’t happen again,” Simmons said before Grif could get another word out. “It was nothing anyways, just a stupid adrenaline trip.”

“Simmons–”

“Don’t ruin this, Grif!” Simmons snapped, even though he was the one who had started them on that path in the first place.

Grif didn’t let go.

“Ruin what?” he asked quietly.

Any answer Simmons could give would sound too much like a confession of his love, and so he remained silent as his brain screamed at him to solve the problem by any means necessary before it was too late.

“Don’t worry about it, Grif,” Simmons finally got out. “That’s what you’re good at, after all. Just go nap in class or stuff your face and forget it ever happened.”

Simmons had been attempting the forgetting it strategy since the first kiss, and repressing everything since he first realized his affection ran deeper than friendship. Simmons might be having poor results, but the strategy would work for someone who didn’t have the messy emotions of romantic love and sexual attraction tangling up all their platonic intentions and causing every moment of displayed affection to be branded in the surface of one’s memory.  

Grif didn’t say anything in response, and he slowly released Simmons’ wrist. Simmons forced himself not to react as Grif’s fingers trailed down the skin of Simmons’ hand as Grif’s hand fell away from him.

Neither of them said anything more, and though Simmons couldn’t turn back around, he also found he couldn’t move away yet. The cool air had become suffocating, and the sun above seeming to taunt him with what it had illuminated.

“Well I guess you better just drop everything and everyone so you can get to class half an hour early and talk to your prof about the latest reading,” Grif said, the cold from the air seeping into his voice even as something else like the rough tone of hurt edged beneath it. “After all,that’s what you’re good at.”

Simmons breathed in those words alongside the air, the words taking on a physical form the moment they touched his tongue and choking him as he swallowed them down. The tone of Grif’s voice coated them with a venom that burned as it went, dripping down into his lungs before tearing at everything within the bloodstream it spread through.

Words and actions involving Grif only seemed to be making the situation even worse, and so Simmons did the only thing he could.

He took a deep breath and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter and thank you so much for all your kudos and comments! <3


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Of course it’s good, I fucking made it.”
> 
> Wash laughed, and suddenly he felt like he could breathe through his stress for the first time that week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OSAP=Ontario Student Assistance Program (Government loans specifically created for the purpose of helping students going to university and colleges in Ontario to pay for that education).

“Don’t do this, Tex.”

“Sorry, Church.”

“Come on, just hold on for one more second!”

“There’s no other way.”

“One fucking minute–”

“No,” Tex said, and then pressed the button on her controller to fire her weapon.

She watched as her avatar launched a grenade into the mass of enemies Church’s character stood by, his own character caught up in the resulting explosion.

“You bitch!” Church screeched as his screen flashed and his character died. Tex just grinned at the screen as hers listed all the enemies who had been killed alongside the one friendly fire death. “That was for last night, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t ask for my help next time.”

“Yeah, see key fucking word right there would be _help_. Not blow me up.”

“I killed the enemies, didn’t I?” Tex said as she moved forward to find the next swarm.

On the top screen, Church had respawned, and his character moved to join her. She ignored his grumblings for the most part beyond the occasional quip in response, killing enemies as she went. Church remained much less successful on his end, and she adjusted her headset to take a sip of water.

The distant sound of another person’s voice crackled over the headset, though Tex couldn’t hear the exact words being spoken. She shot another enemy before speaking to Church.

“Someone else over?” Tex asked. Church was staying at the Director’s for the night, though the man himself would be out most of the night.

“Yeah, Carolina just walked in,” Church said after a pause.

Tex glanced at his screen and saw him once more pinned down. She smirked when two enemies shot him at the same time and he shouted profanities at them.

“She tell you about our crossword competitiontoday?” Tex asked a moment later.

“No, I don’t think she did,” Church replied, and Tex could picture the curious look he’d send Carolina’s way.

Tex had arrived at the pool early for her shift that Wednesday, newspaper stuffed in her bag because she’d been bored that morning and she figured she would be bored waiting for her shift to start. After sparing everyone in the guardroom and the pool a glance, she sat down and pulled out the newspaper. She grabbed a pen and turned to the crossword puzzle she had begun that morning as Yorkstared at her.

“Anyone know what the Easter flower is?” she asked a few moments later, frowning down at the clue.

“A lily,” came Carolina’s reply a few seconds later, and Tex shot a surprised gaze to the other manager.

She looked as startled as Tex at having answered, for while they had been less hostile toward each other since the second session of the fall began, Carolina had been in no way overtly friendly.

Tex watched her turn stiffly back to the computer and a small smile started to tug at Tex’s lips. She turned back to the crossword puzzle, searching now for any she didn’t know at a single glance.

“What about a synonym for ‘selfless’?” Tex asked a moment later. She didn’t bother to glance up. “Got an answer for that one?”

There was a pause, and then Tex heard the sound of Carolina’s flip-flops as she made her way to Tex’s seat.

“Let’s see,” Carolina demanded, leaning over Tex’s shoulder to see if any of the boxes connected to the one Tex currently stared at. She snorted. “Altruistic. Easy.”

For the next twenty minutes, they had both worked together and against each other to fill in the crossword. It became a race to see who get the most clues, and yet, an odd comradery streaked through the competiveness in Carolina’s tone and lit her eyes. For the first time in a couple weeks, Tex saw the hints of a satisfied smile on Carolina’s tired face.

“Huh,” Church said, bringing Tex back to the present game and surroundings. “She says you suck at them. And that she did over half of the puzzle.”

“Bullshit,” Tex snorted. “Just cuz she got that fucking ‘type of birch’ one doesn’t mean she gets double points or did half of the puzzle.”

“Getting a bit defensive there, are we, Tex?” Church said, and Tex set off another grenade near him for the smirk she heard in his voice. That had him swearing at her again, and she glanced down at her lap when her Blackberry went off.

_She ALMOST looks like she’s smiling,_ the text from Church read.

Someone knocked at the door of Tex’s apartment a moment later, and she quickly paused the game.

“Time to go,” she told Church, leaving the headset on as she walked to the door. She opened the door as she said, “People for my group project are here.”

Connie raised an eyebrow at Tex as she stepped into the apartment, but otherwise didn’t say a word. Tex closed the door behind her while Church complained about how little they’d played.

“I’m pretty sure earlier you said you have a shitload of homework you need to get done before you can get _some_ sleep before class tomorrow,” Tex pointed out. “You should be thanking me.”

“Like how I was supposed to thank you for team killing me?”

Tex signed out of the game and Connie took a seat on the couch.

“Night, asshole,” Tex simply replied to prevent anymore distractions.

“Later, bitch,” he replied, and Tex turned off her console. 

She took a seat on the couch and Connie lifted her bag onto the space between them. Headset removed and TV gone dark, Connie finally spoke.

“So, I’m guessing you haven’t told Church yet?” Connie asked.

“Have you told Chris yet?” Tex said in response, and she stilled a little when Connie paused. The girl glanced at her bag where Tex assumed her phone was, but didn’t pull it out.

“Actually, I was thinking about doing that if you don’t think it’s a horrible idea,” Connie admitted. “He doesn’t like what I’ve told him about the Director, and he is in law, so he’d probably want to help. Plus, it be easier getting help from his techie friends without going behind his back.”

Tex leaned back in her spot, studying Connie as she considered the idea. She had never met Connie’s boyfriend, though she knew both Maine and Wash had. The others she thought had met him in passing, for Connie had never brought him to a staff outing. From the way everyone talked to him, he sounded like a good person.

Which meant shit all to Tex in most situations, especially this one. 

“If you think he’ll leave all the final decisions up to us, then maybe,” Tex finally said. “After all, his only personal investment in this is you.”

Connie met her gaze, and Tex knew the girl heard the unspoken, _unlike Church_. Connie offered her a nod, and moved on to asking Tex for an update on everyone at the pool.

“How about you start?” Tex said. She knew the girl had been going by Connie rather than CT ever since she quit, just as Tex knew the girl still kept in contact with most of the staff. “You’ve been keeping in touch with everyone, right? Have they said anything?”

“Well, South yelled at me the other day for not telling her Tucker worked at the café by the pool,” Connie replied with a small smile. “I hung out with Wash and Maine the other day, and I still see Wash regularly. North and York occasionally text me still, and Carolina asks if I’m coming to the staff outings. But as for unusual things happening at the pool or saying they feel like taking my route? So far, nobody’s said anything like that.”

Tex nodded and then gave Connie her own update.

“I doubt Florida or Wyoming will ever be willing to go against the Director,” Tex began. “Florida respects him for whatever reason and Wyoming just doesn’t seem like he’d care enough about what’s been happening, even with the personal injury. He might quit, but I doubt he’d help us.”

Tex paused, mulling over how the others had been acting that week even though she’d already come to her conclusions long before Connie had arrived. “York seems really worried about Carolina because she’s stressed about her exam getting closer, which is only making her more withdrawn and obsessed with being perfect at everything.”

Which was one of the many reasons the smaller moment of sharing the crossword puzzle had left such a mark in Tex’s memory, not that she would tell anyone that. “But I don’t think it’s to do with the pool–not that the Director’s being any easier on her there. North and South are too busy with their own issues and fighting with each other. The way the Director is treating South is probably just making it worse, but–”

Tex shook her head. “It’s not enough to risk telling them. And everyone seems too distracted by their own personal lives and the stress there. To be honest, I think it’s gonna take a big push to get any of them to start paying careful attention again.”

“And it’s been awhile since anything major has happened,” Connie said with a frown. “You think the Director’s following the same strategy as us? Staying quiet and not drawing any more attention to himself?”

“It’s possible,” Tex said slowly, thinking about the higher frequency at which the Counselor had come into the guardroom for his breaks since Connie quit. Tex had seen him more in the past two weeks than she had in the first two months of working there. Since Tex and Carolina were the ones in the guardroom the most, she didn’t know if anyone else had noticed.

“I’ll keep watching,” Tex assured Connie. “He’ll slip eventually, and I’ll be there to see it. Now, what about you?”

They had agreed to text each other if anything happened that merited an immediate response or could be used against the Director, but Tex had yet to get such a text from Connie. At Tex’s question, the girl ran a hand through her hair and let out a frustrated exhale. Up close, the girl looked as tired as Tex imagined Carolina currently felt.

“I’ve found shit all,” Connie said. “There’s a shitload of files and emails to sort through between my classes and my new job, and so far everything I’ve looked at seems relatively harmless and useless. There’s some discrepancies in his financial files I can look further into, but so far the other records are complete dead-ends. I can’t find records of slide maintenance and things like that either, which is bizarre. Maybe you can look into that, see if he scans them and keeps a paper copy somewhere.”

“You really think there will be proof there?”

Connie sighed.

“I don’t know, but we might as well try. Most of the other files about the pool I managed to get are about last session’s lessons. Pretty useless as far as I can tell.”

She tapped her finger on her thigh. “Then there’s the gas leak. I can’t find a copy in the files, but there should be a report on it. By the police or maybe HR, but _somebody_ would have a record of what they found out about it. How it happened, and all that. I read through the news articles but there’s barely anything on it, and all they say is that it was a ‘mechanical failure.’ No details, nothing.”

“You think they’ll just hand it over?” Tex asked.

“If you tell them you’re a manager at the pool it happened at and you need a copy for the pool, I don’t see why not. You might have to fake the Director giving you permission or something, but I’m sure you can handle that.”

And if they had to do things a tad on the illegal side, well, apparently they both knew a couple technology inclined individuals who might be willing to help. Not Church, despite his abilities, for that would be even worse than simply telling him what they were doing. But Tex knew Simmons was adept with technology, and he could be easily blackmailed if not persuaded on more friendly terms.

“Is there anything else?” Tex asked when Connie fell quiet.

“Not as far as I can tell. I’ll keep going through all the files I got and the emails. You keep doing what you have been and see if you can get me a copy of that report. And maybe talk to Four Seven Niner about anything she’s noticed.”

“I’ll see if I can rip off some more files for you too,” Tex told Connie, and the girl offered her a small smile.

“More homework, joy.”

Connie left soon after that, finally taking out her phone to answer one of her boyfriend’s calls. She waved Tex goodbye and headed out the door. Tex remained sitting on the couch for a long while as she thought, glancing over at her quiet console before turning her attention to her actual homework.

***

By the time Tucker got back to his apartment after work on Thursday, it was nearly midnight. His body yearned for his warm bed, but his empty stomach and the translation questions in his textbook that still waited for him derailed any plans of immediate sleep. With a sigh, Tucker pulled out his cell to check his messages before deciding on dinner. Church had sent him a brief message about being at Tex’s, and Tucker typed a new text to Wash.

_When a customer shouts @ u for almost half an hour because their coffee wasn’t fresh enough but refuses to let u make them a new pot because apparently that’s not fucking fresh enough._

Tucker sent the message with a small smile. Wash might say Tucker complained too much, but even he would admit that one held merit. Plus, Wash might offer his own customer from hell story in return, even if he didn’t reply till the next morning.

Tucker went to work making dinner, settling on ground beef given the ease at which it cooked. By the time he’d put together a meal and gulped it down, the time had crept past midnight. Tucker slowly made his way to his desk where he’d dropped his phone and where the last bits of homework waited.

A message of sympathy from Wash appeared on Tucker’s phone as he sat down, and Tucker frowned at the time.

_Thanks, dude,_ Tucker replied. _U still up studying, or procrastinating like the rest of us uni kids?_

_Studying, but also feel like dying. Hoping if I stare out the window long enough, someone will come do it for me._

Tucker stared at the message for a bit, glancing at his textbook before pressing the call button on his phone. Given that the two now texted each other every day, Tucker pressing call was hardly anything new, and Wash picked up on the second ring.

“You wanted a distraction?” Tucker greeted him when Wash picked up.

“I believe I said I needed a rescue,” Wash replied dryly. “Or if you know the trick to studying through osmosis, I could use that too.”

“Do you honestly think I’d still be dying in school if I knew how to do that? Try living as a multi-billionaire on some island nobody’s heard of surrounded by my own personal harem.”

Wash laughed a little at that, but exhaustion weighed down the sound so much, Tucker felt a yawn claw at his own throat.  

“Man, you should go to sleep,” Tucker told him. “Call it a night if you’re dying, especially since you gotta be at the pool even earlier than me.”

“I can’t, I have to study.”

“Wash–”

“I have two midterms this Saturday, Tucker.”

“I know that.”

Wash had mentioned it in the past week, though he always hand-waved the stress factor away and instead simply focused on why it meant he had so little time for other things. “But everyone’s gotta give their brain a break once and awhile.”

“I still have a chapter to review for each one,” Wash replied, and Tucker could hear the control in his voice seeping away with each spoken word. “I have to work from six-thirty till one-thirty tomorrow and then do training from three-thirty to five-thirty. _Then_ I have to go to my night class because people are doing presentations and our grade for our own presentation also includes getting involved in others’ discussions, and when I get home at eight, I’ll still need to review _everything_ before the 8am exam but also finish an assignment before midnight because it’s worth fifteen percent of our mark.”

Stress made Wash’s voice climb higher in pitch, but he kept going. “So despite the fact that I have been running on four hours of sleep this entire week, know how important sleep is, and would really _like_ to sleep now, I can’t yet.”

“Dude,” Tucker managed to get out despite the way his throat went tight at the knowledge of Wash’s overwhelming stress. “I know money is pretty necessary too, but why don’t you take a day off work? I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen you take a sick day, so you’re probably due a shitload of them, and this would give you time to study and sleep.”

“Gee, Tucker, what a wonderful idea,” Wash said, and the sarcasm dripping from every word stunned Tucker into stillness.

The words burned in a way they never had, even when they first met and threw insults at each other with the intent to harm. “I can’t believe I never thought of such a good idea! And so easy too–let me just call Carolina up right now and let her know I can’t come in because I’m one of the thousands of students whose sleep is being sacrificed for school and rent.”

Wash fell quiet and Tucker found himself incapable of speech. He expected anger to swell inside him, but it couldn’t break through the shock that slowly began to twist into concern.

 “I’m sorry,” Wash said into the silence, and Tucker could picture the way he’d close his eyes against the regret and guilt. “That was completely uncalled for. I just–”

“Wash, are you okay?” Tucker asked softly when Wash didn’t continue. “And don’t just give me that ‘oh I’m just stressed’ bullshit if it’s something else.”

“I can’t miss work, Tucker.”

“Wash–”

“I _can’t_ ,” Wash repeated, and his voice finally broke fully. Tucker listened to him take a deep breath. “You remember what I told you about my foster parents helping to pay my tuition?”

“Yeah”

“That wasn’t exactly the truth,” Wash admitted, and with each passing second, the words poured faster and faster from his mouth. “They have been helping me pay it in the past, but they can’t this year. See, my dad–foster dad–got into an accident when he was younger. He was working construction just after undergrad–hadn’t even met my mom yet–when there was an accident on one of the projects he was working on. My dad was luckier than some, but he’s still had to walk with a cane ever since. And there are some days his legs and hips hurt so bad he can barely get out of bed without crying. Other days, it’s his head. He’s brilliant, but since the accident there are times when he just can’t process as fast as the rest of us.”

Wash took a deep breath, but he kept going a second later, as if he no longer had any control of his mouth. “So that all makes finding a job a lot harder than for me or my mom. He’s done alright, even went back to school for a bit so he could get something that would help him get a standard office job. Both him and my mom have always made enough to put them at the lower end of middle class, which was fine when I was growing up and they’d get support from the government too, and it was enough for them to help me pay my tuition.”

Tucker stayed quiet, staring at the shadows his desk lamp cast while listening to Wash. There was nothing Tucker could think to say regardless, mind going blank of his own thoughts to focus all its attention on Wash’s story and the way Wash sounded like he was shattering on the other end.

“But this summer, my dad lost his job,” Wash continued. “Right near the end, after my birthday and after we’d already filled out OSAP and had been told how much they would give me. And around the same time my grandma–my foster’s mom’s mom–got worse. Her health has been getting worse for a while, but it finally got so bad they needed to put her in a nursing home. Her husband’s been dead for years and my mom didn’t think they had the capacity to take care of her at home, but the thing is, those nursing homes are expensive. The annual fees add up to more than half my mom’s salary and it’s the only salary they’ve got now that my dad’s lost his job and he’s not having luck finding a new one.”

On one of their ends, the distant sound of a police siren could be heard, but it barely registered with either of them. “And all this happened right before school started so it was too late to ask for more OSAP, so I couldn’t get more money before tuition was due, and even though you can get away with paying late fees, there’s still textbooks and rent and food and my cats and the car and savings for grad school. And even if I get more OSAP, it just means more debt and I don’t want my parents to have to worry about me on top of everything else.”

Wash took another deep breath, but he started to speak slower. “So I have to work, especially when the Director overheard me telling Connie all about this after my parents called me, and he offered to give me more hours rather than me having to find another part-time job as quickly as possible. I have to work, and I have to do as well as I can in school–even if I’m only doing part-time this year–so I can get a good, supportive job once this is all over.”

Wash fell quiet and Tucker waited a moment, but he didn’t say anything more. Tucker opened his mouth, but had no idea what comfort he could possibly offer in response to all that Wash had told him.

“Holy shit, dude,” Tucker finally managed to say. “That–I’m so sorry, that sounds so fucking shitty and–Jesus, you’re really making me want to hug you.”

Two thoughts kept running through Tucker’s mind as he sat frozen after his declaration about hugging. One, that he rarely even hugged his friends when sober, let alone said out loud that he wanted to. In a romantic relationship it was different, but Tucker couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with a girl or guy longer than three weeks.

The second thought was that he didn’t want to take the statement back, for the desire was genuine.

_Oh fuck,_ Tucker thought. _This could be a problem._

“Uh,” Tucker began, frantically backtracking when Wash remained quiet. “Sorry, that was pretty–”

“It’s okay,” Wash interrupted, and gave a tired laugh. “I could probably use a hug right about now.”

“I’m sure Connie would be down,” Tucker replied, desperate to get the attention away from his previous statement until he had the time to think about it. “Since she knows all about it. And–”

Tucker frowned. “Maine? Who else knows all this?”

“Maine does, I told him a little while after it happened. The others don’t really know the specifics about my dad’s job or my grandma.”

“They haven’t asked about it? Why you’re at the pool all the time?”

“A lot of them have their own family issues to deal with that they don’t like to talk about much, so they won’t ask too much if you don’t want them to. As for working so much–well, what’s one more tired and overworkeduniversity student among the other thousands?”

Tucker could clearly picture Wash’s self-deprecating smile at that, and the urge to help overwhelmed him. Words tumbled from his mouth.

“I can’t really do much to solve most of that,” Tucker said.

“I kn–”

“But what were you planning on doing for food tomorrow?”

“I–” Tucker wondered if Wash stared at the phone in surprise at that, or if he still had his gaze locked on his study notes. “I wasn’t? I mean, I’ll have breakfast, but if I want lunch I’d have to lose even more sleep to make and pack one, so I was just going to grab a protein bar for before training and then not eat till around eight when I get home.”

“And you say _I_ have unhealthy eating habits,” Tucker said.

“You do!” Wash argued, and Tucker felt a trickle of relief as some of the exhaustion fled from Wash’s tone.

“I’ll bring you food,” Tucker told him, ignoring the opening for one of their typical arguments.

“What?”

“Yeah, dude. I’ve got a bunch of left-over ground beef I was gonna use for a wrap for lunch tomorrow–I’ll just make an extra, healthy one for you while I’m at it and bring it to practice. And I was gonna make an awesome chicken dish for dinner, so I’ll bring you some after your training.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Wash said after a long pause, emotions Tucker couldn’t identify making his voice sound strange.

“Well I sure as hell can’t let you starve,” Tucker retorted. “I can’t help you with the other stuff, so let me help you with this.”

“Tucker.”

“Wash,” Tucker parroted back. He waited for Wash to say something more, and when he didn’t, Tucker pressed his point. “You can’t honestly tell me you’d rather starve. And aren’t you the one always going on about how we need to take care of our bodies? You need food if you wanna do well, and I’ve got the time to make that food.”

“If you’re sure you have the time,” Wash finally said, “and you’re okay with doing it, then okay, I would appreciate it.”

Tucker grinned at his empty room.

“Awesome.” He leaned back in his chair. “Dude, are you always this bad at accepting help from others?”

“I don’t want people to worry about me when they have their own issues to deal with,” Wash replied, honesty weighing his voice down before a wry tone lifted it again. “And I _am_ capable of taking care of myself, Tucker.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But Mr. Takes-Care-of-Himself is stubborn and needs to chill sometimes. Like by going to sleep right now.”

After some more needling, Wash told Tucker he would sleep in fifteen minutes when he finished the chapter. Given that Tucker couldn’t verify Wash would do as promised without walking all the way to his house, Tucker trusted him to do as he said, and warned Wash that such trust should never be broken. Wash just laughed one last time before saying goodnight and hanging up on Tucker.

Tucker stared at his quiet phone for a long moment, wondering if he should think about the conversation and what he’d said right then.

But the call for sleep blocked out all other thoughts, and Tucker decided to take the advice he’d given to Wash by diving into his bed a few moments later.  

***

At Friday’s in-service, the Director only stayed for half an hour before leaving the rest under Tex and Carolina’s control.

“Buddy Up, Buddy Down,” South suggested when they got through all the necessary skills and still had half an hour left in the in-service.

Carolina paused where she stood on deck to consider the suggestion, and Wash suddenly felt even more grateful for the packed lunch Tucker had brought for him. He’d produced the plastic bag with a flourish and a grin, triggering an eye roll from Wash. Wash had been quick to offer sincere gratitude though, and the idea of surviving on a protein bar was seeming less and less possible as Carolina nodded her head.

“Alright,” she said, and South grinned. “It’s been awhile. Everyone, down to the shallow end.”

They all clambered out of the middle tank without complaint and walked toward the shallow end. South strode up beside Wash and clapped him on the shoulder.

“I call Washfor my partner,” she declared, and Wash sent a startled look North’s way.

Though the twins didn’t pair up _every_ time they played the game, they did more times than not, and were one of the more formidable pairings when they did.

North just offered his sister a tight smile, choosing not to verbally respond to the challenge in South’s gaze. He grabbed Maine for his partner, Wyoming and Florida paired up, and the remaining three stared at each other. 

“Uh,” York said as he glanced between Tex and Carolina.

Back in the summer when Tex had yet to arrive and Connie still worked for them, there had always been an odd number of guards, forcing one person to sit out. Since Tex had arrived, and before Connie quit, they hadn’t played the game with the then even numbers. With Connie gone, they were back to an odd number of people.

The way the girls held their bodies spoke of an unwillingness to sit out. Wash didn’t know which option would be more destructive; letting them partner up, or letting them play against each other.

“Well, Carolina?”Tex asked, turning to the other girl with a slight smirk. “Should we show them just why we’re their boss?”

“I don’t think being able to beat us into a pulp is actually the reason,” York protested weakly, but Carolina just studied Tex.

Wash couldn’t see any of the usual dislike or coldness on Carolina’s face, and Wash remembered York telling him about the crossword puzzle incident. While having the two team up would surely result in physical suffering for everyone else, having the two constantly at each other’s throat tended to result in both physical and mental suffering. Wash could use less negative tension in the workplace, and after hanging out with Tex outside of guarding thanks to the Blues and Reds, he got the feeling Tex didn’t wish any harm on Carolina.

“They have been getting pretty mouthy lately,” Carolina finally said, and Wash wasn’t the only one who gaped a little bit at Carolina’s response. “York? Sit this one out.”

York seemed to have no issue with sitting on the side of the pool and everyone else moved into position. The rules were simple. Players started on their partners’ back and jumped down when the game began. Those who jumped down would then try to make their way around the circle to climb back onto their partner’s back. At the same time, everyone else’s partner would attempt to stop everyone from moving around the circle by whatever means necessary.

Everyone climbed onto their partners’ backs and Carolina began the countdown. The moment Carolina shouted go, they dove off each other’s backs and into the water. South had wanted to be the offensive player, so she attempted to charge around the circle while Wash tried to stop others from doing the same.

“So you know South’s gonna kill me if we lose,” Wash shouted to Maine over the splashing and yelling as Maine moved toward him. “So could you maybe just stand there until she gets back?”

Maine offered him a smirk.

_You know me better than that._

“Even after I offered my place as a refuge,” Wash said before lunging at his friend.

Even while attempting to stop Maine and being thoroughly dunked under water multiple times, Wash still caught glimpses of the twins’ fight once South reached North. She launched herself forward and North dove into her path without hesitation. Their bodies slammed into each other and sunk beneath the water as North wrapped his arms around his sister to keep her in place.

When Wash got the change to look their way again, one of South’s hands shoved North’s face toward the water while her other twisted his fingers to break his grip. She trudged a few steps toward the next person all the while.

“What the fuck?”

Tucker’s loud voice drew all of their actions to a halt just as South finally tore away from her twin and Florida reached Wash, Maine having already escaped Wash’s hold.

Tucker stood at the edge of the pool watching them, a backpack slung over one shoulder. The way his mouth gaped would have been comical in another situation, but instead Wash felt something like panic stir in him.

“York, you can take my spot,” Wash said, and pulled himself out of the pool. He grabbed Tucker’s shoulder and steered him toward the guardroom. The others watched for a few seconds before turning their attention back to the game.

“Seriously, is this what you guys do every training?” Tucker demanded as they walked. He didn’t try to move out of Wash’s grip even once they stopped moving. “Try and tear each other to shreds?”

“It’s a game,” Wash protested as he let his hand fall away from Tucker. “It’s fun.”

“North is gonna have claw marks on his face from South–”

“That’s just those two–”

“It looked like Maine was drowning you–”

“He wouldn’t–”

“I’m pretty sure Tex gave Florida a concussion–”

“There’s no way–”

“And Carolina was about to give Wyoming a bloody nose!”

“Tucker,” Wash said desperately because Tucker was giving him the look.

The look filled with a wariness that shouted he saw Wash as _more_ ; more than Tucker and more than human. While such a reaction made Wash feel a light warmth when it stemmed from awe, he hated it when the look shoved distance between them. When the look made it seem like Tucker would only ever see Wash as an invincible lifeguard who resided in a completely separate realm of existence, Wash would do anything to make the look go away.

Wash didn’t think it had bothered him so much in the beginning when that was the only expression beyond angerthat Tucker showed him. But after everything that had happened since then, the look now made Wash feel small and alone.

Especially after last night when Wash had revealed things to Tucker he normally kept hidden away. Such action granted Tucker more power than anyone else in Wash’s life, and had caused the unfamiliar weight of vulnerability to settle in his chest and keep him off-balance all day.

“You know, at one of the in-services near the end of the summer,” Wash said when Tucker remained quiet. “I managed to get the rope from the rescue tube tangled all around my leg from my ankle to my crotch.”

Tucker crossed his arms, but a little of that wary look drained away. “At another, Connie accidentally strapped her hand to the spinal board, and I was so busy laughing at her, I didn’t notice I’d done the same thing to my hand.”

“Oh my god.”

“We also once tried surfing down the slide on the rolling log and nearly lost all our teeth, accidentally dropped Maine and the spinal board to the bottom of the pool, and capsized a canoe.”

“Your parents must be so proud of all of you,” Tucker deadpanned, though the early wariness had been replaced with a teasing light in his dark eyes. Wash felt himself relax at the sight and Tucker uncrossed his arms.

“Speaking of parents, where’s Junior?” Wash asked, for it was past when Tucker picked him up from school on Fridays.

“Oh, Church and Caboose are watching him,” Tucker said. He set his backpack down and rummaged through it. “Figured he wouldn’t want to come for such a quick trip. And then he’d just wanna go swimming or see your cats.”

Tucker straightened with a plastic container now in his hands. He grinned at Wash. “For your dining pleasure.”

Wash took the container and studied the chicken pasta inside.

“It looks good,” he told Tucker, and Tucker snorted.

“Of course it’s good, I fucking made it.”

Wash laughed, and suddenly he felt like he could breathe through his stress for the first time that week.

“Okay, okay, amazing then.”

“Better,” Tucker grinned. “Come on, wasn’t that lunch everything you ever dreamed of?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever dreamed about a beef wrap, but yes, it was good.” The smile faded a little from Wash’s face, but only so gratitude could take its place. “And thank you, Tucker. Really. You were right, I would have been a lot worse off if I didn’t eat today.”

Tucker rubbed the back of his head but he didn’t look away from Wash’s steady gaze.

“Yeah well, you sounded like you could use it and it’s not like it was a huge hardship to make a little more so. Anytime.”

Before Tucker could say anything more or Wash could respond, South burst into the guardroom.

“Oi, shortie,” South said, gaze landing on the startled Tucker. “Wash tell you about tomorrow yet?”

“No?”

South grinned and Tucker moved closer to Wash at the sight.

“We’re having another staff party tomorrow night. ‘Cept this time, we wanna invite the _entire_ water polo team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buddy Up, Buddy Down is a terrifying but very fun game lifeguards like to play that will result in several scrapes, claw marks, near-drownings, and possibly bruises simply going against normal lifeguards. 
> 
> Wash's financial situation is based very much on what is considered low-middle class in my town and the average price of nursing homes I could find for my province. Lower middle class has an average annual income of $43, 000 and annually a private room in a nursing home is $28, 880. Full-time tuition at my school for Kinesiology students is around $7, 600. So those are the numbers I am basing it off if anyone was curious XD 
> 
> Thank you guys for all your comments and kudos! The posting schedule might be a bit weirder from now on as I am working full-time this summer, but I will hopefully be able to keep a fairly regular posting schedule.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You already have an Iphone?”
> 
> “I don’t call people on it,” Epsilon said with a roll of his eyes. He drew the phone back to himself. “It’s for pictures.”

Tex had briefly checked in with everyone on the third Saturday of the second session to see how lessons were going. Midterm reports were due that dayfor group lessons, and as deck supervisor for that morning, Tex should technically make sure all the private lessons were going well.

From most of them, the answer was a resounding positive comment. Those children babysat by Vanessa Kimball who joined lessons the previous session only continued to strengthen their bond with their instructors, judging by what they told Tex.

“What about you?” North asked after everyone else had given a report. “Omega still giving you some trouble?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she said, for the boy had eased off his more volatile actions and words for a while.

Which was why his attitude that day took Tex off-guard. He appeared as sullen and angry as he had the first time Tex met him, swearing even after she gave him a warning and after she threatened to kick him out. He slapped the water whenever he swam, and didn’t listen to any of the things Tex said he needed to change.

She put up with it for ten minutes before she stopped him in the deep end.

“Alright, kiddo,” she said as he scowled down at the rippling water. “What’s going on?”

“The fuck you talking about?”

She didn’t answer, just stared at him in silence with her lips pressed into a hard line. He looked up at her, but couldn’t hold her cold gaze for more than five seconds.

“What are you talking about?” he finally muttered, and her muscles loosened a fraction.

“What’s got you in such a bad mood?”

“Just cuz I’m not jumping all over the place and smiling like stupid ass Theta doesn’t mean I’m in a bad mood,” he snapped at her.

“Fine, in a _worse_ mood than you normally are.”

“Why should I tell you?” he demanded.

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to,” Tex told him. “You _do_ have to stop swearing and actually do this lesson as you’re told, and you can do that with or without telling me why you’re treating the water like it killed your pet. It might be easier for you to do that if you tell someone what’s wrong, is all.”

If Church had seen her giving someone a “talking about your feelings is healthy” lecture when they had first started dating, he’d tease her for it for at least three weeks. He’d say she was more likely to beat up a punching bag than talk about her feelings, and there would be chunks of disbelief lodged into his light tone.

He would still tease her now of course, but the disbelief would have faded. After two years,a few tries at an open relationship, cheating incidents, several break-ups, hundreds of shouting matches, countless passive-aggressive fights, and some odd number of nights spent alone and placating their feelings for each other with so much alcohol they didn’t remember getting home or the vomit they found in their apartments later, both of them were a bit better at talking about their feelings.

With each other at least, for Tex still declared she was better than Church at discussing sensitive topics genuinely with her friends. Church had just said that was because she was a girl, leading to a very sore shoulder and lots of swearing on his part. Tucker had cut in to say claiming she was better at Church when it came to feelings really wasn’t much of an accomplishment, nor did it mean much. She had just shot back that the point remained before changing the topic.

So telling an angry teenage boy that talking about his feelings rather than simply destroying random shit might be a more healthy choice would no longer be that surprising to anyone who had known her for the past two years.

Omega didn’t seem to be in agreement with her words, judging by the way he just scowled out at the benches. But the more she studied his face and the stiff way he held his body, the more she saw his anger was incomplete. It consumed most of his facial expression and lined the locked muscles of his body, but Tex could see the other parts that stuck out like weeds in a garden.

Tex knew the rage that filled one’s mind with the sound of cracking bone, and consumed every cell with the desire to see blood splash across the grey backdrop of the world, for no other colour stuck out enough. The rage that left behind bloody knuckles, raw throats, smoke and burning rubber, tongues coated with the taste of gasoline, broken glass, and dry eyes.

She also knew several of several reasons that caused it, and the way they sometimes clung to one’s body like a bur despite the desperate desireto hide it with anger.

“Omega,” she said.

She didn’t know if it was because she used his name or because he really did want to tell someone, but he turned his gaze back to her. The hardness in his face didn’t go away because even if talking helped, words didn’t erase the marks left behind by emotions within seconds. But a little of that stiffness fell away, swirling away and carried into the filterby the pool’s water.

“It’s my birthday next Saturday,” Omega muttered. She stared at him, waiting to see if he would say more. He didn’t.

“You got any plans?” she asked. He didn’t look at her, just shrugged.

“Do your parents got any plans for you?” Tex questioned, and that earned a dark scowl.

“They’re not even gonna be in the fucking country,” he snapped.

For a moment, his words and the familiar hurt she could now hear under the fury stirred the echoes of long settled memories. For a moment, she saw a store bought brownie with a single flickering candle lighting up her otherwise dark and empty bedroom. For a moment, she heard Church’s snapped back reply about his parents being God knew where in Italy when she asked about them being at his birthday dinner the first year they dated.  

“Away for work?” Tex said.

“Probably. S’not like they give me the details about their boring ass lives. I just asked them if we could get pizza or something next weekend instead of their usual weirdass crap and they said I’d have to ask Kimball cuz they’d be in Peru or some shit.”

He didn’t say anything about a birthday being mentioned and she imagined his parents hadn’t mentioned it either when he asked. She imagined they simply told him they would be gone, the significance of the date slipping away as they focused their attentions on their own lives and all the other dates they cared about.

“You tell Ms. Kimball?” Tex asked.

None of the lifeguards might have known much about Vanessa’s personal life, but all of them could see she cared about the children in her care. Tex couldn’t imagine the woman not doing anything for Omega if she knew about his birthday, even if the teenager constantly caused her trouble.

Omega’s body loosened even more at that, and the scowl faded for half a second. Hesitation mixed in with the angry hurt, and she wondered if he always hesitated with any kind of hope.

“Why would I?” Omega replied, the hesitation vanishing a second later. “My parents probably told her, gave her some medical and personal info or some shit when they first dropped me off there.”

“Well I bet if you told her, she’d let you guys stay at the skate park or the pool even longer that day,” Tex told him, as those were two places she knew he didn’t mind going to on the weekends.

He always told her it was embarrassing being at the skate park with Theta because he was so bad, but Tex had overheard Omega giving Theta advice in the parking lot once when she was done her shift. He said it in an angry tone with swear words intermixed, but the words had Theta adjusting his stance so he didn’t fall off like he had two minutes before.

“Really?” Omega asked, voice thick with skepticism as he finally looked at Tex again.

“I don’t see why not,” Tex said. “She seems like a cool lady.”

Omega glanced over at the benches at that and Tex followed his gaze to where Vanessa sat speaking with Epsilon. Tex wanted to say Vanessa might be able to get pizza if Omega asked, but she didn’t know Vanessa’s financial situation and so Tex couldn’t say anything about things that involved money.

“Gotta say though,” Tex continued. “That sounds like a pretty shitty move by your parents.”

She allowed herself to swear in front of him once, even though any other manager or parent would probably have her head for it. But with Omega, the curses seemed to be the final piece that pushed him back to his usual state and eased away all the venom his parents had caused.

“Yeah,” he said, and turned back to her. “They’re pretty lame.” He stretched his legs out and glanced at the clock. “What’s next?”

Tex forced her attention back to the swimming portion of their lesson, and Omega complied much easier than before. She got the feeling Omega wouldn’t bring up his birthday with Vanessa and she hoped the woman had made a note in her calendar about all the children’s birthdays. It seemed like something she would do.

But that didn’t mean Tex would just leave it to the other woman to counteract the neglectOmega’s parents displayed.

***

Epsilon hunched on a bench, staring down at the slim object held in his hands. Much like the first week, he shoved the object into his bag when he saw Wash approaching, though not before the lifeguard caught a glimpse of it. Unlike the first week, Wash didn’t let his curiosity dictate his word choice. He offered Epsilon a smile instead, and asked him how his week had been. After Epsilon grumbled a few noncommittal sentences, Wash asked him what he wanted to start with, just as he had the week before.

There was less of a pause that time before Epsilon answered Wash’s question. Less hesitant glances between Wash and the pool, as if Epsilon expected some sort of trick to be hidden in the question. He responded quicker to Wash’s questions, responded with slightly less derision and anxiety when Wash stopped him to make a suggestion.

In turn, Wash maintained all the calm friendliness he could, as respectful as he could be toward Epsilon’s boundaries. Even if Vanessa seemed to think Epsilon’s home life wasn’t as bad as Wash feared, there was no denying the glimpses of uncertainty verging on fear that kept flashing across Epsilon’s face and stiffening his body. Which meant teaching the standard strokes was no longer the only goal, but also alleviating those sentiments fraction by fraction with each lesson.

Wash got them out of the pool a couple minutes early to give Epsilon a brief update on their progress. Epsilon had moved further out of Vanessa’s hearing range as soon as Wash began to talk, and Wash simply followed. Wash started with all the things Epsilon could already do and then moved onto the things he needed to improve, focusing on what they would do to improve while his voice naturally overflowed with an encouraging tone. In what was becoming a recurring pattern,Epsilon stared at him the entire time like he was an extinct animal brought back into existence.

“You know that thing you asked me about on the first lesson?” Epsilon blurted as Wash started to head off.

Wash turned back around, eyes wide in surprise. Epsilon didn’t look at him, staring at the floor instead and fiddling with the drawstrings of his swimsuit.

“What you put under your towel?” Wash asked when Epsilon didn’t continue.

Epsilon glanced up at the acknowledgment and nodded. Then he stepped to his bag to pull out the item and held it so Wash could see.

“It’s my phone,” Epsilon explained as Wash studied the thin, square device.

“You already have an Iphone?”

“I don’t _call_ people on it,” Epsilon said with a roll of his eyes. He drew the phone back to himself. “It’s for pictures.”

“Pictures?” Wash repeated, and Epsilon nodded.

He pressed on the screen and then turned it toward Wash so he could see. The screen now displayed Epsilon’s photo gallery, row upon row of pictures flashing in front of him as Epsilon flicked through the gallery.

“You have a lot more than me,” Wash commented. “But why not carry around a camera instead?”

“Cuz that’s more obvious.”

Wash raised an eyebrow at that, and glanced at the clock behind him.

“You know you’re not supposed to take pictures of people without their permission, right?”

“It’s not like I’m gonna use them for anything bad,” Epsilon snapped, as if Wash’s question held intentional idiocy. “Or take private ones or whatever. It’s just random people I see around and shit. If they see a phone they’ll keep walking, but if they see a camera then they always wanna know what I’m doing and why.”

He had a point and Wash wanted to press the issue more, but didn’t want the scowl he could see hints of solidifying any further.

“Why take pictures?” he asked instead, for Epsilon had never struck him as the photography type. Then again, Wash had to admit he didn’t know much about the kid and there wasn’t a specific type of person photography was limited to.

“My teacher told us that memories aren’t actually really reliable,” Epsilon said after a moment of silence. “We all think they’re perfect and we can use them to tell the truth, but that’s wrong. I looked it up online and at the library too, and it said the same thing. Peoples’ memories lie. But pictures can’t.”

Wash blinked. He opened his mouth and then closed it. He stared at Epsilon, and for once, the boy held his gaze for as long as Wash.

“That’s a really good reason,” Wash finally said, and he saw surprise dart over Epsilon’s face before the boy stowed it away behind exaggerated confidence. “And really smart, too.”

He offered Epsilon a smile, but heard York calling his name before he could comment on the importance of memories to Epsilon. Wash settled for widening his smile a fraction and offering Epsilon a goodbye before he left the boy for the day.

***

Tex exited the pool halfway through York’s lesson and headed to the empty guardroom. For one moment she sat and thought about what Omega had told her during their lesson that day. It took her another moment to reach a decision, and then she climbed back to her feet to peer out the window at the pool deck.

Tex surveyed the benches, but Vanessa and all but one of her kids had disappeared. Wash’s private student, Epsilon if she remembered correctly, sat on the benches with a towel wrapped around his body. Vanessa and the other children’s bags remained, and Tex glanced all around the pool deck but still couldn’t find them.

A second later, she strode from the guardroom toward the child. Wash said he was twelve, old enough to give Tex some hope he could help with her solution with Vanessa absent.

“Hey, kid,” she called when she was only a few feet away.

He whirled around, lips already in a scowl and mouth parting with a ready comeback. At the sight of her, the expression dropped out of sight, and he went still.

“You’re one of Vanessa Kimball’s kids, right?” she said when she stood in front of him. “Wash is your instructor.”

“Epsilon,” the kid replied. He lifted his chin at her even though spots of red appeared on his pale cheeks. “Who’re you?”

“The manager,” she told him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Also, Omega’s swimming teacher. Which is what I wanted to ask you about.”

“Ask me about Omega?”

“You hang around him a lot, right?”

Tex knew better than to assume the children liked each other just because they went to same babysitter. But Epsilon might have at least noticed Omega’s interests and hobbies, though Vanessa still would have been a much better source. “I just wanted to know what kinda stuff he likes–TV shows, games, that kinda stuff.”

“Why?” Epsilon asked, and Tex thought she heard disappointment in his petulant voice.

“It’s his birthday soon.” She said nothing more, waiting to see the understanding creep across Epsilon’s face.

“Okay,” Epsilon said, and Tex blinked. She hadn’t expected the kid to give in so easily after everything Wash told her. “But you gotta do something for me first.”

“I don’t make deals with people under the age of eighteen,” Tex snorted, and Epsilon’s whole face went red.

“It’s not a big deal, you just–you gotta look at a picture and tell me what you think.”

Tex raised an eyebrow at that, studying Epsilon’s face and the way he tried to hide how important the request was. He was almost as good as Omega, but a pleading tone could still be heard in his voice.

“Alright, fine,” Tex said, after a glance around the pool deck. She didn’t know if she had time to wait for the kid to give in otherwise. “Now?”

“He likes _The Walking Dead_ and basically anything to do with stupid zombies,” Epsilon replied right away, straightening in his seat as he did.

“The show?”

“All versions of it.”

Tex nodded her head. When she didn’t say anything more, just held out her hand for the picture, the expression on Epsilon’s face brightened. He shoved off his towel and rummaged through his bag. Without a sound, he pulled out a phone and began to flick through it. He placed it in her hand, and anxiety stole over his expression.

She took a step back and held up the screen to her face. For a phone picture, it had good quality, and Tex wondered if the phone was the newest model. She didn’t bother to check, just studied the picture as she had agreed to.

It was a shot of the street outside a window, though the window appeared to have been opened for the sake of the picture. Rain poured to the cement in the outside world, cascading down the buildings and streaming into storm drains on the street. A girl strode through the rain on the sidewalk, her red coat and white umbrella blurs of colour against the grey backdrop. Rather than hold the umbrella upright, the picture caught her in a moment where she seemed to be twirling the object around her. The motion caused the brilliant white shade to trail across the photo like the tail of a comet.

Behind her, a car rushed by in the streets. Frozen for the shortest of seconds, the car elongated into a streak of colour.Tex wondered how loud it had been in that moment, and whether the girl sung along to the pattering rain or simply moved between the raindrops silently.

Tex glanced over at Epsilon whose tiny hands had curled into fists on his thighs.

“You take this?” she asked, turning her gaze back to the photo as she tilted the phone.

“Yeah.”

She wondered how long he knelt on his scraped knees before he’d gotten that picture. How long before the elbows he rested on the window sill grew sore and his fingers grew tired of hovering over the screen. How many other photos he must have taken before he got the one he deemed good enough to save and show others.

“They’re good,” she told him. She handed him the phone and he tucked it back into his bag. “Really good. You wanna go into photography when you get older?”

Epsilon looked away from her, the red remaining in his cheeks as he mumbled something. “What?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, still not looking at her. “I dunno.”

“It’s a long ways away,” she said, for his basic information stated he was only twelve, not even in high school yet. “But if you like it and you’re that good, I’d say go for it.”

He finally looked up at her again, and she could see bits of genuine happiness starting to widen his eyes.

“You really think I’m good?” he asked, so quiet it could have been a whisper.

“I’m no expert, but that looked pretty good to me,” she said.“But I gotta go.”

“Okay,” Epsilon said, and he sounded happier than he had at any point throughout their conversation. “Bye, Tex.”

She didn’t realize he’d said her actual name until she got back to the guardroom, and she smirked a little imaging how much Omega would have had to tell the other kids about her for them to remember her name.

***

Once Junior knew that both Tex and Wash were helping with his lesson, he left Tucker’s side for swimming lessons much quicker and with significantly less tears. Delivered safely into Tex’s hands, he stopped craning his head for a reassuring glimpse of Tucker every five seconds, and Tucker could retreat to the benches without feeling like he’d abandoned his child.

It also granted Tucker the time to evaluate his current position with Wash.

With the conversation Thursday night, Tucker realized his feelings for the lifeguard had tip-toed into romantic territory when Tucker’s back had been turned. Thinking about it in hindsight erased most of the surprise. After all, Tucker had come to realize Wash was a decent person, they’d been spending a lot of time together since September, and the dude was pretty physically attractive too.

 _And he’s good with Junior_ , Tucker thought as he gave the lesson a quick glance.

But, he told himself, that didn’t mean he needed to panic. Tucker liked the friendship he had with Wash, and he didn’t want to ruin that because of some barely formed notions of potentially romantic desires. There were no indications that Wash wanted anything more than friendship and it wasn’t like Tucker was head over heels for the guy. Whatever he felt could be reined in and kept duct-taped in a friendship-only box.

Momentary crushes had happened to Tucker before. He’d gotten over those, and deeper romantic emotions that clung to everyone pigment of his skin.  

This one would be no different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: There is now an adorable piece of fanart for Epsilon's conversation with Wash: http://thewolvesrunwild.tumblr.com/post/128377978322/my-teacher-told-us-that-memories-arent-actually
> 
> A short interlude before the second staff party which should hopefully be up next weekend. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!  
> (I know nothing about photography so I'm sorry if it sounded really wrong)


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know how to make pina coladas?” Sarge broke in, surveying the items on the kitchen counter with interest. South paused and then turned to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself this one would be shorter than the first staff party.
> 
> I lied.

Tucker was pretty sure everyone else on the bus hated them by the time they finally got off at Maine’s house. All of the Blues on public transportation together made for an obnoxious group, but them combined with the Reds was enough to make any passenger on that bus consider walking two hours to their destination rather than taking the bus.

All of the Reds and Blues climbed off the bus with loud voices followed by gaping mouths as they looked around the quiet residential area. Tex, Church, and Tucker took the lead with the others following close on their heels. All of the Reds and Blues had responded in the affirmative to Wash’s last minute text invitation, even Sarge who claimed his men wouldn’t survive the night without him.

They reached Maine’s house with the sun still burning in sight, and the Reds paused a little at the foot of the lawn.

“You sure you have the right place?” Grif asked. “Looks more like Simmons’ place than any university student’s residence.”

“That’s what I said!” Tucker said as they walked to the front door. He glanced at the empty flower bed by the small front porch and wondered if any of the residents’ actually planted in the spring. “But Maine’s parents left him this place when they died and his uncle helped him keep it up.”

Tex didn’t bother to ring the doorbell just as she hadn’t the first time. Instead she strode right in with Church at her side. Caboose pressed close to Church, though he didn’t seem worried. The assurance that Washington and Church would be there had calmed any miniscule doubts the cheerful man might have.

Behind Tucker, Simmons and Grif glanced at each other and then inside before stepping through the door. They had been acting strange since the exhibition game, falling in and out of their normal pattern of conversation as their words dipped into genuinely hurtful territory. Grif had been ignoring Simmons for the most part during the bus ride, but their mutual unease over the lifeguards brought back old habits and momentarily seemed to erase the tension between them

For they had heard stories from Tucker, and had experienced firsthand the intensity Tex and Wash approached life with. Tucker’s warnings not to try out-drinking any of them hadn’t helped with their wariness.

Sarge hadn’t stopped frowning since they met him at the bus stop, and Tucker knew Lopez would be bearing his usual disgruntled expression when he arrived in Sarge’s van.

In contrast, Kai and Donut were excited to meet everyone else. They brought up the rear of the group, chattering happily with each other and a smiling Sheila.

“Yo,” Tex called once they were all inside and Sheila closed the front door.

The others glanced around quickly as they took in their new surroundings. The living room looked much as it had the first staff party, with couches arranged around the coffee table, and three mattresses scattered around the room. Pillows and blankets were already piled on the mattresses, and Tucker considered claiming one then and there. He didn’t need to be home until tomorrow morning, Doc kind enough to babysit Junior overnight and assure Tucker not to force himself up too early.

The sound of clinking bottles and cupboard doors being closed came from the kitchen, so Tex led the group over. South stood inside at the counter, an array of liquids once more spread around her. She glanced over at them as Tex stepped through the doorway, the others all crowding in with her.

“Would you look at that?” she said, turning around fully to offer all of them a grin. “They actually came. Full attendance?”

South looked to Tucker as she said it, and Tucker nodded.

“Hell yeah, everyone’s here.”

“Even though you gave us no fucking heads up till the day before,” Church said, and South just snorted.

“Please, as if you guys don’t do a shitload of last minute hang-outs and drunk fests.”

“Where’s North?” Tex asked before Church could get out an angry reply.

“In his room, napping or some shit.” South took a step closer to the doorway and the Reds who stood there all scrambled out of her way. “Oi, North, get out here and be the proper host. I’m too much of a bitch to do that, remember?”

Only silence responded and she shook her head. “He’ll come out and play the gracious host eventually. Now, tell me you actually brought some decent shit this time?”

She glared at Tex as she said it, and Tex offered her the plastic bag she’d brought her booze and mix in. South hefted it onto the counter and then began looking through with pursed lips.

“Alright, alright, not so bad,” South commented, and Tex rolled her eyes.

“Been drinking for more than five years without your input, South,” Tex told her. The others moved a little closer now that South wasn’t yelling at her twin, glances moving back and forth between the two lifeguards.

“Yeah, and look at the shit you’ve been drinking. Fucking disgusting.”

“You know how to make pina coladas?” Sarge broke in, surveying the items on the kitchen counter with interest. South paused and then turned to him.

“Course I do.”

Sarge grunted and narrowed his gaze at her. South just shoved her hands in her jeans and leaned back with the barest hints of a challenge in her stare. A few seconds of silence passed, and then Sarge nodded.

“Right.” He waved the other Reds forward. “We’ve got ourselves a kindred spirit, boys.” He turned his gaze back to South and addressed her once more. “From now on, you’re an honorary Red.”

Grif and Simmons spluttered as South looked on in confused amusement.

“You’ve barely known her five minutes!” Grif said.

“Takes less time than that to know a Red when I see one.”

“Wanna explain, shortie?” South asked, glancing at Tucker who was trying not to laugh. He grinned at her.

“Right, intros.” He pointed to Sarge, Grif, Simmons, and Donut, telling South their names as he went. “They’re the Reds. Well, them and this Spanish guy in Caboose’s class who’s not here yet. Church, Caboose, Sheila, Kai, Tex and I are the Blues. They’re the teams we were on before we joined together.”

“And they still exist within the fabrics of our souls,” Sarge declared. “Even if we fly under the same team logo, a Blue at heart with always be a rotten Blue, and a valiant Red will always be a Red with every fibre of their being!”

“Huh,” South replied. She crossed her arms and calculation shone in her eyes as she looked at where Grif and Simmons stood. “If I’m a Red, do I still get to mess with those two?”

“Well, Simmons can’t talk to girls so you’re already messing with him just by existing,” Grif said, and Simmons went red at his side. He glared at Grif, and Tucker thought he saw genuine hurt in his face just as he had on the bus ride.

“You can do anything you like to Grif,” Sarge assured her, and Grif just sighed.

“In that case, I hope you both like tequila and taking drunk videos,” South smirked in response. Tucker had never seen Simmons’ face change colour so quickly, while Grif simply shrugged. Tex leaned back on the counter while Sarge stared at South with something close awed joy in his eyes.

“Bless your soul,” he told her.

Donut started chattering about having a welcoming party which caused both Grif and Simmons to shout at him that she wouldn’t actually be joining their team. In the sudden chaos, Tucker slipped to the fridge to help Church put all their booze inside. Church got out one of the juice boxes they’d brought for Caboose much to his loud gratitude. Sheila joined their side of the kitchen at the same time that Kai made her presence known to South.

She planted herself right in front of South, swaying into South’s personal space with a grin as the lifeguard blinked at her.

“Hi,” Kai said. “You’re really hot. Also those purple tips in your hair are _awesome_.”

“Oh god,” Tucker breathed as a growing sense of horror filled him at the thought of the havoc those two could wreak together. He wasn’t sure if it would be worse or better than Kai bonding with Tex, but he knew his self-dignity would be in much more danger either way.

South stared at her, one of her hands brushing her bangs aside. For a moment, the house itself seemed to hold its breath as Kai grinned and South remained quiet.

Then, South returned her grin.

“I like you,” South told her. Within seconds, South wrapped her arm around Kai, drawing the shorter girl close to her body. She stepped out into the living room, tugging Kai along.

“We have a new roommate, North,” South hollered, all of the guys wincing at the sudden volume.

“What about Maine?” Tucker asked while they waited for any response.

“He’s hiding outside somewhere. ‘Sides, he’s probably sick of our company by now.”

“Did she just steal my sister?” Grif whispered to nobody in particular.

“Told you she’s a Red, didn’t I? Nothing to worry about in that case.”

“But _Kai’s_ still a Blue, dude,” Tucker reminded them. “She doesn’t go on your team just cuz she’s got the hots for an honorary Red.”

“You’re just jealous,” Kai called back to him.

North’s arrival cut off Tucker’s retort. He thumped down the stairs, rubbing at his eyes and running a hand through messy hair. He looked like Church after a bad night of nightmares, his face too pale and the confidence gone from his posture. The sight of everyone drew him to a sudden halt, and when his gaze found his sister’s smirking face, it stayed there.

“What?” North said, and it seemed more like a question directed to the entire present rather than just his sister’s declaration.

“This is Kai,” South told him, and Kai offered North a cheerful wave. “I’ve decided we’re keeping her.”

“That’s not–you can’t just–she’s not–” North’s bewildered gaze went to Tex, Church, and then Tucker, but they just offered him a helpless shrug. North turned his attention back to South. “She’s not a pet, South.”

“It’s cool,” Kai said. “I like feeling wanted.”

“That’s not–” North replied, and then stopped much as Wash often did around the Reds and Blues. Tucker wondered if it was in fact possible to break a lifeguard. They had yet to manage it with Wash, but the combined forces of the water polo players _and_ his twin seemed to be doing the job for North.

“You’re her twin, North, right?” Kai said into the pause. “Tucker’s told us about all of you.”

“Yes, hi.” He looked up at the rest of them and the warm smile he usually wore slowly crept over his face. “Hi, everyone. I’m North, South’s twin.”

The others all began to introduce themselves while Kai remained tucked under South’s arm. North seemed slower to warm than normal as he struggled against his exhaustion. But the friendly tone returned to his voice and posture soon enough, and he was quick to ask Tucker about Junior.

“Carolina is with Four Seven Niner right now getting the rest of everyone’s booze,” North explained once the conversation began to turn to questions about the rest of the lifeguards and the party itself. “And snacks as well, I think. The others should start turning up in the next half hour or so. South, where’s Maine?”

“How the hell should I know?”

North didn’t look surprised by the response, just shook his head and continued speaking with the others. “Right, well I’m going to find our other roommate.”

“I’m making drinks and getting music,” South added.

“So you guys can just chill here for a while. Feel free to watch the TV and claim whatever spots you want in the room before anyone else shows up.”

“I’ll help you,” Kai told South. “It’ll be cool to see someone make an actual drink instead of just throwing in a shitload of booze and then whatever drink they have to drown out the taste.”

Kai followed South into the kitchen and after a quick exchange with Tex, Sheila headed into the kitchen with them. North exited onto the back patio, and the others all slowly migrated to the couch and coffee table. Tex and Caboose hauled a mattress to the end of the coffee table that didn’t have a couch around it, while the others spread across the couches.

Caboose joined Church and Tex on the mattress where they sat with their backs to the TV, while Tucker nestled into the corner of the couch facing them. The Reds took up another couch, except Sarge. He remained standing, walking about the room and studying the backyard beyond the glass doors. The rest of the couch Tucker sat on remained empty, but he didn’t have the urge to sprawl across the open space just yet.

“So North seemed…nice,” Donut finally offered. “And Kai was right, those purple streaks do look really good on South.”

“Yeah, North almost seemed normal,” Grif snorted, and Simmons nodded where he sat beside his friend.

“Betting that lasts till the drinking games start,” Church said with a glance at Tucker. Tucker offered him a grin.

“No way, man, soon as the others show up, they’ll see how crazy all of them are.”

“I want to try the purple lady’s drinks too,” Caboose piped up, his response met with firm no’s from everyone in the room.

They all fell into conversation, and five minutes later, Kai tossed a bag of chips out to her brother. They could hear the girls chatting and Kai laughing in the other room, but none seemed willing to step anywhere near the kitchen. Tex simply leaned back on her elbows and surveyed everyone with a neutral expression. She let them do most of the talking, offering an occasional jab or smirk.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and they all looked up as Wash arrived. He called out to South and then stopped mid-stride as he caught sight of all of them. Tucker felt concern swell in him at the exhaustion pressing down on Wash’s shoulders, nearly blurting out a question about the midterms before South’s appearance stopped him. She marched right up to Wash with a bottle of tequila in one hand and a shot glass in the other.

“Two shots, rookie,” South told him. “One for each midterm.”

Wash didn’t even pause, just threw back each of the shots she offered him in rapid succession. He wiped his mouth after and handed her back the shot glass while the others stared. South offered him a nod of approval and then headed back into the kitchen.

“Having a good day, Wash?” Church offered with a slight smirk.

“The best, Church,” Wash replied without even a roll of his eyes.

Without another word, Wash headed straight to the empty space beside Tucker. He dropped into the spot with a smile to Tucker, and Tucker tried to shift over for him. He couldn’t go any further without the armrest digging into his side, but Wash didn’t seem to mind. Their arms pressed against each other, and though Wash had more room on his other side, he didn’t bother moving into it.

Given Tucker’s recent realization and resolution, he didn’t know whether to be happy or panic over the contact.

“So how _did_ your midterms go?” Tucker asked after a second of silence.

“They’re done, that’s all that matters,” Wash replied, and Simmons winced at that.

“Jeez, that bad?”

“What, no. No, I’m sure they were fine. They usually go really well, I’m just more focused on the fact that they’re done and I can do something besides study tonight.”

“Well, you _almost_ sounded like Simmons at the beginning there,” Grif said, and Simmons dug his elbow into Grif’s side in retaliation.

“Okay, remember what I told you guys?” Tucker asked in an attempt to divert the others from whatever weird fight Grif and Simmons seemed to be going through. Sarge took the last empty seat on the couch as Tucker spoke again. “Whatever you do, don’t try to outdrink Wash.”

That drew a startled laugh from Wash and a slight smile from Tex.

“Learning from your mistakes, Tucker?” Wash teased.

“Yeah, he was very very specific about what we shouldn’t do,” Caboose said, even though Tucker had told him the rule didn’t apply to Caboose since he wasn’t allowed to drink any alcohol. “And then Church kept making fun of him because Tucker was very dumb just like he always is.”

“Thanks, Caboose.”

“See, I feel like he’s exaggerating,” Grif said, and Wash just raised his eyebrows at him without saying a word.

“For once, he’s really not,” Church told them.

Tucker knew his roommate had gotten amusement from not warning Tucker, but neither of them wanted to be held responsible for all of the Reds getting smashed. Last time it resulted in a full sink of dirty dishes and burnt cutlery because Donut tried to bake drunk and Caboose tried to help him. “All of the lifeguard’s are fucking crazy at holding their alcohol, Wash especially.”

“No man should have that kind of power,” Tucker muttered, and Wash just looked at him with fond amusement lining his expression.

Carolina and Four Seven Niner were the next to arrive, breezing through the door with several bags hanging off their toned arms. They spent ten minutes in the kitchen bugging South about how grateful everyone should be since the girls got everything they requested, before joining the others in the living room. The Reds and Blues were quick to latch onto Four Seven Niner’s name, Tucker needling at her to give them her real name despite guessing she could hurt him just as easily as Carolina given her closeness to the woman.

“Try all you want, Tucker,” Carolina told him, smile tugging at her lips. “The others have been trying to get her to tell them since she started working with us.”

“How long is that exactly?” Tucker pressed, trying to size up the BA’s exact age. She quirked her lips at him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Four Seven Niner said, even though Tucker didn’t think she could be more than five years older than him. “Tell you what, you last a month being these maniacs’ driver and alcohol delivery girl, and maybe I’ll give you a hint.

North dragged Maine back inside a few moments later, and the bigger man drew gapes from all the Reds and Blues, and more than few choice curses. North went to check on the kitchen while Maine took a seat right at Wash’s feet, signing something to him too quick for anyone else to read. He pulled out his notebook only a few seconds later when Caboose asked a question.

Lopez arrived at the same time as York, the lifeguard apologetic for his lateness and the water polo player looking already eager to head home. Donut attempted to translate an introduction for everyone which only made Lopez look more willing to commit murder at that moment.

Florida and Wyoming were the last to show, arriving within ten minutes of each other. Florida greeted those he knew with a large smile and cheerful questions about how they were doing. He introduced himself to the others with equal enthusiasm, while Wyoming disappeared into the kitchen.

Once everyone arrived and had been introduced, there was a brief moment filled with shouting and the sound of sloshing liquid as everyone grabbed themselves a drink at South’s demand. She had made a blender of pina coladas,enough for herself, Kai, Sarge, and left-overs for whoever got to it first. The Reds and Blues wisely decided not get in Sarge’s way, while the lifeguards were distracted with their own drinks.

“Alright, motherfuckers,” South said once they all returned to the living room and were sitting around the table.

Half of the lifeguards had to sit on the floor, either on the open side of the table or at the feet of those on the couch, and the other half squeezed onto the mattress. Florida, Wyoming, and Carolina all sat around the couch-less side of the table, while South, North, and York had claimed a piece of the mattress. Kai, Sheila, Lopez, Maine, and Four Seven Niner all parked themselves at the foot of the couches.

“We’re starting with Ride the Bus,” South continued. “Fuck the dealer style.”

“Bow chicka bow wow. I volunteer.”

“No one is actually gonna fuck you, dude,” Grif told him, and Tucker winked at him.

“You sure?”

“There will be no fucking from anyone tonight under my roof,” South said, and she gave a pointed glare to Tex and Church. “Got it?”

“What about a blowjob?” Church asked, either comfortable with her wrath after the first staff party, or forgetting just how much alcohol she’d forced down his throat at the first party.

“I see anyone’s dick come out and I chop it off with one of our meat cleavers,” South told him, and none of the Reds or Blues responded to that. “Alright then. I nominate myself for the first round, and Mr. Impervious-to-alcohol over there for the second.”

She grinned at Wash, who simply accepted the nomination with a wry smile.

They began. South mixed three decks together because there were so many of them and each needed at least four cards. They went around and around in the circle as South had them guess at which card they would get, based on suit, colour, relation to the other cards, and so on. Every time they got one right, she had to drink, and every time they guessed wrong, they had to drink. Tucker lost track of who was drinking more by the end; South or everyone else.

Then South set up the diamond of cards, with sevenin the middle row, and the next portion of the game began. Some of them–like Tex, Carolina, Four Seven Niner, Florida, and North–tried to keep give an equal number of drinks to everyone. The rest all focused on giving their drinks to one or two people, Sarge giving every single one to Grif despite how little of an effect it was having. South spread hers between her brother, Tucker, Wash, and the Reds. Tucker gave his to Wash, Church, and Tex.

“Yeah, I’m actually really thirsty, so I’ll take all of them,” Caboose kept saying every time he put down a card.

Wash had to ride the bus at the end of the first round, continuously restarting though appearing more flustered with his coworkers’ teasing than his actual losses. When he finally got through it, South gave him the deck and claimed they needed to play at least one more round before they moved on. Wash accepted the deck and the role as dealer, and Tucker wondered if Wash would need to drink an entirekegbefore he even got buzzed.

Simmons was the one to ride the bus at the end of the next round, though he got through the line of cards significantly faster than Wash despite the redness of his face. South seemed disappointed it didn’t last longer, but mixing the king’s cup for all of them brought her glee back within seconds. She disappeared into the kitchen and then carried the cup out with a smirk, all of the Reds except Grif staring at it with wary gazes.

“Everyone ready?” North asked once South set the cup in the middle of the table. They decided to simply spread the entire triple deck around the cup, since they would normally play more than one round anyways. Everyone nodded, and North gestured to York to pull the first card.

“Looks like we’re starting with Never Have I Ever,” York announced as he set the card down on the corner of the table. He sat on the corner of the mattress with Carolina on his right and North on his left, and everyone held up three fingers at his words. “Alright, let’s start simple. Never Have I Ever broken three bones at once.”

A collective groan sounded from most of the lifeguards, and the Reds watched with gaping mouths as half put a finger down. The only ones who didn’t were Carolina, Florida, and York. Even Church put one down, and when Tucker shot him a questioning look, he said,

“I broke my wrist and two fingers when I fell out of that fucking tree as a kid.”

“Sucks,” Tucker replied, and then looked over at Tex. “When the hell did you manage to get hurt?”

“Motorcycle accident,” she said with a shrug. “Some stupid ass dude swerved into my line so I had to swerve to avoid him.”

“Wash?” Tucker turned to him and saw South roll her eyes out of the corner of his eye.

“You gonna ask everyone about their injuries?” she demanded.

“Hey, I’m with him,” Grif cut in. “It’s nice to know you guys can get fucked up like the rest of us.”

“Mine was just a skateboarding thing,” Wash said, and a little red crept up his neck. “It uh–it was dumb, just–you know, trying a trick before I should have and fucking it up.”

“Trying to impress your boyfriend?” York asked with a slight smirk, and Wash glanced at him.

“Do you _really_ want to go there, York?” Wash replied, and Tucker thought he saw his gaze flicker to Carolina.

“ _I_ want to continue playing this game,” South declared. “North, hurry up and pick something.”

“Never Have I Ever gotten in trouble with the police,” he said within seconds, giving a pointed look at his sister as she glared and lowered her finger.

“Technically you should put one down too,” she snapped.

“ _Technically_ you were the only one they had to talk to.”

The Reds watched as even more of the lifeguards put their fingers down that time, and Tucker could see their early wariness break apart like cells during mitosis, some parts morphing into disbelief and others changing into an even stronger wariness. Only Carolina and Wash didn’t put a finger down, though Sarge and Tucker were also penalized. When Wash looked at Tucker with a question in his expression, he explained,

“I got in trouble for streaking the one time I partied with Kai.”

“More than once!” she shouted at him with a grin, and Grif gave them both a sour look.

“Alright, alright, my turn,” South said, and just like her brother, she gave hers with barely a pause. “Never Have I Ever been in a threesome that involved two guys.”

“Awww,” Kai complained as she put a finger down. Tex, North, York, Florida, Four Seven Niner and Church,all put a finger down. The round ended as both Tex and Four Seven Niner were out of fingers, the two tipping their drinks to each other slightly before taking a swig.

The game continued. Most of the Reds were lucky in that they didn’t get penalized by South’s rule of take a shot every time they fucked up waterfall, as only Simmons messed up. None of them were very lucky when it came to drinking from the king’s cup, though. Even Grif, who Tucker knew had on occasion eaten moldy food and had no issue eating things that had fallen on the floor, gagged on South’s concoction.   

Tucker didn’t manage to avoid the king’s cup either that time, and even knowing how bad it would be didn’t prepare him for the odour of bile that emanated from the cup. His drink came well past halfway through the game, and it only made his buzz grow. Everyone else seemed to be either encroaching on such territory or well into it, their voices growing louder and louder.

And with every second that ticked by, Tucker fell more and more frequently into Wash’s personal space as the buzz of alcohol made his limbs feel looser. He swayed into the space with an apology, but Wash didn’t move away. He remained exactly where he was with his thigh pressed against Tucker’s thigh, his arm pressed against Tucker’s arm, and the warmth of his body only made Tucker want to stay where he was. All Wash did when Tucker did move too close or nudged him was to turn and smile at Tucker, either silently or with a teasing remark.

The actions only served to remind Tucker of how close they were sitting and the less than platonic feelings Tucker was starting to become aware of.

The game kept pulling Tucker’s attention away, though, saving him for the moment. Wash had to drink from the king’s cup twice, and even he winced and coughed after each drink. Close to the end, another Never Have I Ever card was pulled.

“Nunca he estado alguna vez un idiota,” Lopez said when it was his turn, and everyone stared. _(Never Have I ever been an idiot.)_

“Uhh, I think he said, ‘Never Have I ever taken history in university’,” Donut said suggested brightly and Sheila simply remained quiet.

“Mi punto es probado.” _(My point is proven)._

By the time it got to Grif,half of them only had one finger still up, and he looked around the circle at all the people he could get out. His gaze fell on Simmons last, who was one finger away from losing and already the most intoxicated of them all. His face was bright red, and the shade only darkened when Grif’s stare fell on him. The others simply waited, but Tucker felt a great weight fill the silent space between the two Reds.

“Never Have I Ever kissed a girl,” Grif said as he turned back to the others, and everyone who lost the last finger groaned.

Simmons lowered his hand to his lap, glancing over at Grif who simply took a sip of his own drink.

The weight disappeared.

“That was surprisingly nice of him,” Wash said quietly to Tucker, and Tucker turned his gaze to him. Once more, his brain began to focus solely on the lack of distance between them and Tucker felt his gaze flicker to Wash’s lips for a single second.

Tucker needed help.

***

The game of King’s Cup was nearing an end and Church really needed to pee. He waited until it wouldn’t be his turn for a while and then got up. Caboose latched onto the movement right away, and Church reassured him with a sigh he wasn’t leaving, he was just going to the bathroom.

“I gotta go too!” Tucker blurted at Church’s announcement.

Before Church could get out another word, Tucker leapt up, walked around the couches to Church, and then grabbed his arm. He began to haul Church toward the stairs while babbling about wanting Church to hurry the fuck up. The others watched in confusion and amusement, but Church didn’t bother responding to any of their shouts. When they reached the landing of the second floor, Tucker pulled Church into a bedroom.

“Uh, Tucker,” Church began, but Tucker cut him off.

“Church, dude, you gotta help me.”

He stared at Church with wide eyes, and Church’s reply came instantaneously.

“What the fuck did you do this time?”

“Nothing yet–but I wanna–but whatever happens, you gotta stop me from making out with Wash.”

A pause.

“What?”

“You can’t let me kiss him!”

“Tucker,” Church said, wondering what he had done in his past lives to deserve this. “I know I talked about you banging Wash or having moments or whatever, but I wasn’t completely serious.”

“Yeah well, he’s great.”

Church stared at him. Below they could hear the sounds of the party continuing strong, and it sounded like South had taken the opportunity to pick another playlist on her Ipod. Light filtered into the bedroom through the hallway, and in the dim light, Church could just make out the lines of distress on Tucker’s face.

“You’re serious?”

“I mean, it will probably be okay, right? I don’t like him _that_ much, you know? But I wanted to hug him the other day and I know I like physical affection but I don’t fucking say shit like that to you or Tex or any of my other friends, and I was staring at his lips just now and that’s really weird but also booze so I don’t know.”

Tucker took a step closer, words falling from his mouth faster than Church could blink. “But he’s really great, you know? Like he’s an asshole sometimes and he’s always on me about being healthier or whatever and he’s a massive dork too, with his comics and just the rules cuz North was saying how they’re all told to read through the policy manual and use hand signals but Wash is the only one who actually does both of those things, but he’s also really funny and smart and he’s really supportive of me? He works super hard and he doesn’t even like telling people when he’s stressed cuz he’s a fucking idiot and doesn’t want to be selfish or some shit, but he lets me complain all the time even though he teases me for it, and he fucking bought chocolate milk just because he knows Junior likes it and was coming over, cuz it’s too unhealthy or some shit for Wash to buy on a regular bias.”

Church considered just telling Tucker he was fucked, but knew his friend would just start babbling even more if he did. Or try to hit him with one of the pillows on the bed behind them. He sighed and asked,

“Have you considered not plastering yourself all over him?”

“But we’re talking and he’s really comfortable,” Tucker said with a frown. Church felt the urge to either kill Tucker or put his head in his hands in defeat.

“Okay fine, don’t fucking avoid the situation like you should. I’m not gonna bodily drag you away but we’ll get water, alright? Take a break and just drink water and it should be fine.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll do that. It’s not like–this is a new thing this week so it’s not like I’m in too deep yet, you know? Not like you were with Tex.”

Church felt his cheeks heat a little and he glared at his friend.

“The fuck does that mean?” he demanded, and Tucker laughed.

“Come on, dude, you know you were whipped. I mean, you still are but you were after meeting her just one time.”

“I was not.”

“We got drunk together the next day and you started bitching about the hot girl you met at the gym who was a total bitch but also really hot but a bitch but also you wanted to date her.”

“That is _not_ what I said,” Church began even though they had gotten drunk the very next night, and Church could remember spending a great deal of time talking about Tex to a very exasperated Tucker. Church cut himself off though, for if he continued, the two would dissolve into an argument that could well last the entire party. “Let’s just go get you some water, alright?”

Tucker nodded, and they turned toward the door. They both proceeded to bite back shrieks and stumble a step back as they spotted Tex leaning in the doorway. She just looked at them expectantly, arms crossed over her chest.

“Did you hear all that just now?” Tucker finally asked.

“Maybe,” she said, and then said nothing more.

“You’re uh, not gonna tell Wash what I said, right?” She didn’t move. “Please, Tex? Come on, we’ve been friends for years, you wouldn’t do that to me, right? Can’t you just punch me in the balls instead?”

“Do you really think I care that much about your personal life, Tucker?” she asked, and Tucker’s shoulders slumped.

“I fucking hate both of you,” he mumbled, but didn’t resist when the two of them let him to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

***

When Tucker returned to the living room clutching a cup of water, the others were already playing a new game. Despite Church’s other advice, Tucker returned to his previous seat when Wash smiled at him.

“All good?” Wash asked, and Tucker tried very hard not to look down at his lips again.

“Yeah, just taking a water break,” he told him, and then desperately took a massive gulp of water.

Everyone else was still partying strong, though Sarge and Florida had broken off from the main group. They now stood against one wall, Sarge gesturing every time he talked as Florida listened with a smile while watching the rest of them. Kai chattered happily with Sheila, Four Seven Niner, and Caboose, and looked to be trying to convince them to do a shot contest. On the couch, Grif and Simmons were as close as Wash and Tucker, all the early tension gone for the moment.

“Tapping out this early, Tucker?” Grif asked. Simmons turned to look at him at the same time, his red curls brushing Grif’s ear with the motion.

“Just a break, asshole,” Tucker shot back. “I told you, you gotta play it smart drinking with these guys.”

He gestured at Wash who only took another sip of his drink. Tucker had lost count of the number of drinks everyone was on, but Wash gave no indication of stopping any time soon. “Give me half an hour and I’ll be right back with you guys.”

At the same time, South got up while snapping at North to help her get more chips. He took one last gulp of his drink and then headed into the kitchen with her. Rather than get out the bowls and chips though, she paused in the middle of the room and patted at her jean pockets. North opened the cupboards to get bowls, glancing over at her when she remained in the middle of the room.

“Problem, South?”

She rolled her eyes at him and moved to grab the chips.

“Just trying to remember where I put my phone.”

North went still at that, fingers brushing the cold plastic of the bowl as South tore open the bag of chips without looking at him.

“I think I left it in my room while I was making the drinks,” she said, thinking more to herself than speaking to him. “But it’s guaranteed at this point those idiots are gonna do something I want a picture of.”

She let the chips stand where they were on the counter and moved to the fridge to refill her drink. North slowly lowered the bowl from the shelf but then stood there staring at her, words fizzing on his tongue like pop.

“I guess I can reply to Mom’s text about midterms while I’m–”

“They’re coming down,” North blurted, and South paused where she peered into the fridge. She slowly turned around to look at him.

“What?”

The conversation with their mom about it had happened just before the party. While South went to work in the kitchen and then greeted all the Reds and Blues, North had been Skyping with his mom about the visit. She had been sending him emails about it all week and he was so tired that day, he said yes over Skype before he even had a chance to tell South. But if she got her phone then, there would no doubt be a message from their mom about the impeding visit.

“They want to come stay for a weekend,” North told her, and South snorted.

“Typical, she always chooses the busiest fucking time for us when she wants to do family time. Why–”

“South,” North interrupted, and felt something squeezing his lungs as he let the next words pierce the air. “It’s both of them. Dad, too.”

South blinked at him. Stared. Blinked again. In the sudden bubble of silence surrounding them, North felt cornered as South’s disbelieving glare pinned him to the spot.

“He’s not fucking staying here,” South finally got out.

“South–”

“I don’t give a shit if he doesn’t want to pay for a hotel or whatever,” South continued, voice rising with North’s attempts to interrupt. “I don’t even want him within a hundred feet of our house so there’s no way in hell he’s staying here.”

She slammed the fridge door and whirled to face the living room doorway.

“Where’s my phone?” she demanded, and took a step forward.

“Why?” North asked as she started to head for the doorway. “What are you doing, South?”

“I’m going to phone him right fucking now and tell him he’s not staying here.”

“South, be reasonable,” North said, trying to keep his voice low as she strode through the living room with him on her heels. “Just stop and think about this for a moment. We’ve been drinking, it’s late, we’re all tired–”

“He’s not fucking staying here!” she shouted, spinning around in the middle of the living room.

All the chatter died in a single second, and everyone turned around to look at where the twins had halted. South didn’t look at any of them, just kept glaring at North as he struggled to think of something to say to calm the fury twisting her face.

Without another word, she stomped up the stairs toward her room. North followed, repeating his earlier sentiments about how it was a bad time to call and she should process it before she started yelling at their dad over the phone. She shoved her door open and even though he knew he shouldn’t, he tried to reach out and touch her shoulder.

She slapped it away without even turning to look at him before grabbing one of the textbooks lying on her desk and hurling it at the wall. North stood still, arm slowly lowering to his side as he stared at his sister’s back.

“Leave, North,” she growled without turning. “I don’t want to deal with your fucking hypocrisy right now.”

A part of him knew he should leave it and her alone, return to the party and let her do what she wanted. It wasn’t a good time for either of them to get into an argument, not when they were both so tired and stretched thin from the end of the school semester. In their exhaustion, they got sloppy and instead of simply pricking the other with their anger and their words, they ended up taking out chunks of each other. Chunks that couldn’t be fixed with a simple apology or small gesture like those regular pricks could be.

But North didn’t leave, for neither of them had ever been very good at walking away when it came to the other.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he demanded instead, too tired and too buzzed to realize the danger he was in and reel in his anger like he normally did.

She finally turned to face him, her rage not lessened in the slightest.

“Since Theta brought  up his fucking dad again, it’s been ‘I’m really worried about Theta, I want to do something, we gotta do something, South, if I met his dad I would punch him right in the face and tell him to be a fucking father.’”

She took a step forward, hands curled into fists at her sides. “But then it gets to our family and it’s all, ‘sure Dad treated Mom like shit for the last half of their marriage and fucked her over for some blonde druggie, but why shouldn’t Mom and him drive down together? Sure, he tried to get South to cover up for all his lies and called her a bitch and threatened to hurt her when she said she wouldn’t. And sure he made fun of all of my interests and made me feel like I was always second tier, but why not invite him to stay at our place? Why not continue to ignore the shit he puts our family through in favour of figuring out a way to deal with some other kid’s deadbeat dad?’”

North wanted to snap right back at her that wasn’t what he did. He didn’t stay silent whenever their dad started to shit talk the rest of them as North had as a scared teenager. He had wanted to protect his mom and South as soon as he saw how their dad acted. To that day, he had never felt as sick to his stomach as he did the day South came to his room as a sixteen year old to tell him she saw their dad with another woman and what he said in hopes to have her stay quiet. To that day, no sound had ever hurt more to hear than that of her voice breaking with her hurt instead of anger as she told North what their dad had said.

North didn’t agree with what their dad did, and talked to him only because their mom thought he they should still keep in touch with him. If at least one of the twins didn’t talk to their dad, then he would simply try to pester their mom until she phoned them.

North thought there was nothing they could do at that point to change what he considered a mostly harmless family member such as their dad. Theta’s situation could still be helped.

And, if North was being completely honest with himself, it was much easier to focus on Theta’s situation than his own personal one.  

Instead of saying all of that, North pulled out his phone and snapped, “Fine, _I’ll_ call him then. Is that what you want?”

She shook her head and grabbed his phone before he could react.

“Then what the fuck _do_ you want, South?” he shouted.

“I want you to stop acting like you think you’re so much better than _me_ ,” she all but screamed at him.

He could hear the music downstairs raise in volume as if to keep the downstairs’ occupants from hearing them.

“When the fuck–”

“All the time!”

Neither one of them moved, but both of their bodies tensed for a fight. “Yeah, half the time it’s fine, you’re just being the annoying, overprotective, asshole of a brother you’ve always been even though I’m only minutes younger. But whenever we get close to finals, you start acting like you’re the only one who knows how everyone should be taking care of themselves, never mind the fact that I’ve been getting decent grades since first year and you always end up with the least sleep cuz you’re so busy being everyone’s patronizing mom. But of course you never actually tell the assholes like dad off. Just me.”

“I–”

“You don’t do anything about him, but I can’t make a single fucking mistake without you shoving it down my throat. And when it’s not you but someone else, like when the Director freaks out over a tiny mishap at training, you don’t do shit all about it. You just ignore it or act like I’m mad about nothing because my anger is never fucking justified with you and I’m just some stupid fuck up with invalid opinions.”

“That’s not at all–”

“And it’s just gotten a hundred times worse with Theta. I thought you actually listened after the staff party weeks ago, but as soon as he mentioned his dad again, you started talking about it without giving two shits what my opinion was.”

“That’s not true.” The alcohol pumping through North’s blood only added to the anger, the indignation, and the denial.  

“Every time I’ve told you to leave it alone the past, you’ve given me some condescending look and been all ‘You just don’t understand, South.’ You’ve fucking told me everything at this point and I don’t over-worry about every god damn thing so I’m pretty sure I understand better than you.”

“I have not said that.”

“You’ve said shit like it and you fucking know it. If you’re not gonna actually listen to my opinion, don’t fucking ask for it. And if you’re not going to, you don’t get to fucking tell me off or tell me how to run my life or give me advice and act like it’s the only right answer.”

They were careening toward an end North couldn’t predict with all the anger and alcohol mixing in the air and suffocating any clear air. But that blindness didn’t stop either of them from continuing.

“You know I’m just trying to make sure you’re alright,” he protested, and she shook her head so hard her bangs slapped her eyes.

“You’re missing the fucking point, North. You don’t get to expect me to follow your suggestions if you don’t listen to mine too. Because you’re not fucking better than me.”

“That’s not what I think!”

“Well it sure as hell seems that way!”

“Well it seems like all _you_ ever want to do is spit in my face!”

They were back to shouting, but it was different than earlier. Their voices were hoarse, the anger breaking their own bodies as it imploded instead of spilling out and burning the other’s skin as it had before. North could feel exhaustion beginning to pound at his temples, and the feeling made the bits of guilt triggered by South’s words capable of trickling through him. South didn’t look guilty, but he could see the stirrings of a similar exhaustion in her own gaze.

They stayed quiet for a while, North trying to sift through all the swirling sentiments as South simply stood there. Without a word, she headed to her bed and sunk down to sit on the edge. North watched her, and the dull emptiness that lined her expression reminded him of the way he’d found her after their dog died when they were fourteen.

After all the rage that howled at the unfairness of the situation and the silent gods that dared take away such a treasured friend, only grief was left behind. A grief that left her wordless on the bed while she wrapped her arms around her knees as if she could protect herself from ever feeling again.

North joined her on the bed as he found himself finally capable of accepting that maybe he had fucked up. It shouldn’t be a surprise, the two of them were always doing something to piss off the other. But it had always been balanced out by the times they took care of each other or made the other laugh.

The argument they’d just had brought to the surface all of the things that had been building up and keeping them off balance for the past few weeks.

 “Maybe that’s where Theta’s dad is,” South said moments later, breaking the silence that settled on them like flakes of snow. “Out picking up bitches with our dad while their sons cry at home.”

“Is that supposed to be a jab about me supposedly being a crybaby?” North asked, though there was no teasing to be found in either of their tones.

“You _were_ a crybaby.” She glanced at him. “Well, at least until you decided to pretend you didn’t have any negative emotions.”

Technically, he could argue that came from the socialization all young boys received. But he knew the moment he stopped crying came around the same time he stopped showing his anger.

“Well,” he said, “you know me.”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t say ‘unfortunately’ or something equally snarky as North expected she would have any other time. A few seconds of silence passed and he bumped her shoulder with his own. She didn’t push him away or put further space in between them. Instead she pressed an inch closer, giving North the reassurance that his next action wouldn’t be rejected.

Past the age of ten, there were still times when South would let him hold her, even though she wasn’t drunk. After their dog died, after she told North about their dad, after her girlfriend cheated on her with a mutual friend in first year, she let him. After the rage had passed, scooping out all other emotions as it went and leaving her with the feeling of vulnerability she hated, she would let him.

Sometimes she would even hold him back.

“This doesn’t mean you can keep doing it,” she said into his chest, arms wrapped around each other.

“Yeah,” North replied. Even though they still had to work everything out, some relief managed to mix into the exhaustion. If she would still let them hug, things weren’t beyond fixing yet. “Maybe we should start talking before we reach a screaming match.”

When it came to issues that left bitterness twisting everything inside them if left unresolved, their usual strategy didn’t appear to be working.

“What if I got one of those spray bottles? You know, the ones you spray cats with every time they do something bad for conditioning or whatever. I’m sure Wash has one somewhere, and then I can spray you every fucking time you do something patronizing.”

“Or we could use our words.”

“Not as fun.”

“Tomorrow after work,” North said. “We’ll talk more. I’ll tell Maine so there’s no way he’ll let us get out of it. And I’ll listen. Promise.”

“I’ll bring the spray bottle.”

He dug his chin into her head in retaliation, and that ended all hugging. She shoved at his shoulder before using her legs to push him away and off the bed. North laughed as he went, rubbing at his head when he landed and looking up at her triumphant expression.

A knock at the door interrupted them, and North climbed to his feet with a groan to answer it. Wash stood in the doorway, hesitation written all over his face while Tucker hovered at his shoulder.

“Hey,” Wash said, glancing over North’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of South. “You guys alright?”

“Aw, did you come all the way up here to make sure we were playing nice?” South asked, voice thick with sarcasm as she stayed on the bed.

“Wash came to make sure you hadn’t killed each other,” Tucker explained. “I came to make sure no one killed Wash.”

“I’m pretty sure you’d get killed before him.”

“Hey, I can be pretty badass when I want.”

A book flew through the air and Tucker swore as he desperately ducked away from it. The book would have clipped him if Wash hadn’t lifted a hand to swat the offending object away. He turned to sigh at South while Tucker positioned himself even further behind Wash.

“Such a badass,” South commented.

“We’re alright, Wash, Tucker,” North said before Tucker or Wash could start arguing with her. He offered them a smile. ”Thanks for checking. We’ll be down in a sec.”

Wash remained where he was a little while longer, but his posture finally loosened after a nod from North. He turned to prod at Tucker’s shoulder, and then followed a complaining Tucker down the stairs with his fingers splayed across Tucker’s shoulder blades and an amused smile on his face. North watched them go but didn’t leave the room.

“You know, if you wanna start making it up to me right now,” South said from the bed, “how about we make a little bet?”

***

The party was only just starting to dissolve into separate groups by the time Wash and Tucker returned from checking on North and South. Some of the Reds and lifeguards still played games while others simply sat around the table talking and drinking at their own pace.

Church went with Kai to refill their cups in the kitchen, and she kept the conversation going as they went. Only a few steps back into the living room, Church asked her how she liked going to the gym with Tex.

“It’s a lot of fun!” Kai said, stopping with Church. “I’m totally getting the best work-out I’ve ever gotten and now I have a badass bff.”

She turned quickly toward Tex, who had moved to the couch seat behind where Sheila sat on the floor. “Right, Tex? We kick ass together!”

“That’s right,” Tex called back, and Kai grinned. Her gaze went back to Church.

“Yeah so it’s totally awesome and I was so surprised when she asked me after so long but totally happy she did!

“What do you mean?” Church asked, frowning as the middle of Kai’s sentence replayed in his mind

“I mean I’ve known her since I started playing water polo with you guys and she’s never really talked directly to me for longer than a couple minutes. So it was really awesome when she just invited me out of the blue.”

“When did she invite you?” All of Church’s attention focused on to Kai who simply looked confused by the sudden sharp tone of Church’s voice.

“Uhh, I think we started a couple weeks ago?”

Church stared at her and Kai rolled her eyes. “Jeez, Church, you’re her bf. Aren’t you supposed to know shit like this?”

“It’s not like I forgot our anniversary or anything,” he snapped, even though both of them had forgotten at least once.

Kai just rolled her eyes again at the defensive, smartass reply he gave her instinctively. “And anyways she uh–she only mentioned the start date briefly. I forgot.”

“Whatever,” Kai said, and headed back over to the couches where the others were.

Church remained where he was, gaze slowly going to Tex where she chatted with Sheila. He remembered the conversation they had at the first staff party he attended, her comments and denials swirling in his mind. He expected anger to come the longer he thought about it, but the expected sentiments were slow to arise. Instead, the memory of her lighter moods after the workouts surfaced, and the pictures he’d seen on the girls’ Snapchats held the anger back.

As he watched the present scene, Kai leaned over the back of the couch and said something to Tex and Sheila. Sheila simply looked amused from where she sat on the floor, whereas Tex replied with a quick smirk and a flick to Kai’s bare shoulder. The younger girl just laughed and moved over to poke at Tucker and Wash.

Tex watched her go and then her gaze met Church’s from a few feet away. She raised an eyebrow at him in silent question when she saw him just standing there, and he shook his head.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered as helpless laughter clawed at his throat.

He was still positive Tex had been lying when she said she wasn’t jealous of Kai at the start. Yet she had made the words she gave Church a reality, and everyone involved seemed all the happier for it.

If she said the same thing as she had at the first staff party, she would no longer be lying for Church was positive she had managed to surpass her jealousy in a way Church still struggled to do.

He walked over to where Tex gazed at him from the couch, stopping in the same place Kai had. Without a word, he leaned down and kissed her hard. One hand gripped the backrest of the couch for balance and he let his other cup the side of her face. Strands of blonde hair brushed his fingers as she tilted her head and deepened the kiss.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” he told her when he finally pulled away. Everyone else but Sheila was too enraptured in their own activities to notice, and Sheila kept her comments to herself.

“Pretty sure that’s my line,” Tex replied, and she rested her head in her hand as she peered up at him. “But enlighten me. What exactly have I done that’s so ridiculous?”

“I know you lied,” he began, and she might have had the best poker face of anyone they knew, but he had studied that poker face for two years now.He saw the way she stiffened the smallest of fractions. “About being gym buddies with Kai. You only started going with her _after_ the staff party where I said you were jealous.”

She didn’t say anything for a few seconds and when Church also stayed quiet, she relaxed.

“Oh,” Tex said. “Yeah, I guess I did. You mad?”

“I feel like I should be. But technically, it’s not a lie anymore, and you seem to like her alright.”

“Kai is very affectionate,” Sheila said, finally reminding the two of her presence. “And she enjoys our company very much.”

She shot Tex a smile. “And I do believe the feeling is mutual at this point.”

Tex rolled her eyes at her friend, but she said, “She’s like an overgrown puppy.”

Their conversation was cut short by Caboose’s shout asking Church to keep playing with them, and the three of them rejoined the new game that had begun.

***

Tucker and Wash returned to their previous spots on the couch after checking on the Dakota twins. Four Seven Niner had taken over the drinking games with South gone and Wyoming talking with Florida. Carolina stood by the kitchen with a drink in her hand, listening with a look of amusement as Sarge and Donut carried on a conversation. Tex, Church, and Sheila were having their own conversation on one of the couches, Tex having occupied the empty spot Donut left while Grif and Simmons remained sitting where they were.

The two seemed to have gotten over any earlier anger, or perhaps the alcohol had caused such an effect. Simmons spoke much more than earlier, his posture loose and relaxed as he gestured with his hands every time he spoke. Grif had sunk into the cushions of the couch, leaning as far back as possible without melding with the couch itself. He interjected during every one of Simmons’ dialogue, causing the two to swerve off into their own conversation, sitting so close Tucker expected Simmons to fall into Grif’s lap at any second.

Caboose continued to vibrate with energy and Tucker wondered if they should cut him off given all the sugar in the juice he must have consumed. He kept trying to drag Church into the conversation while simultaneously playing the game and listening to Kai. Kai, Lopez, Maine, York, Wash, and Tucker were the only ones taking the game seriously by that point. Lopez wore a resigned look on his face every time he took a drink, as if the only way he could survive the rest of the night was to get as drunk as possible. Tucker had returned to drinking alcohol, confident the momentary break and water helped him regain enough of his senses to not to do anything stupid.

Not that Wash was helping with that matter in the slightest. He continued to drink as much as everyone else, if not more given his willingness that night to take all the shots that were offered to him. Every time he leaned forward to pick a card or to say something to one of the others, his hand rested on Tucker’s knee for balance. It remained there until Wash needed his hand to pick another card or give Maine the middle finger, but even after he removed it, the warmth stayed.

North and South still hadn’t returned when the first notes of a familiar song drifted to Tucker’s ears and he straightened in his seat. Wash shot him a puzzled look, but Tucker only grinned and climbed to his feet in response. Across the room, Church also paused in his actions and his gaze sought out Tucker a second later.

“Hell fucking yeah,” Tucker said, and moved into an open space just past the couches as those playing the drinking game watched in confusion. “This is my song.”

“Oh this is gonna be good,” Church said, and he raised his voice to a shout. “Everyone get your asses over here, he actually doesn’t suck at dancing.”

Tucker gave him the middle finger, but began moving to the beat only a second later as the others around the room slowly turned to look. The others’ cheers and taunts only made Tucker grin harder, and Wash felt a similar smile form on his face as he watched. Not a shred of embarrassment or self-consciousness held Tucker back, and Wash’s gaze kept falling to the mesmerizing movement of his hips.

The loud stomp of feet on the stairs announced South and North’s return, but Wash couldn’t pull his stare away to see where they stood. He heard South’s whistle though, and ten seconds later, Tucker’s gaze turned to them.

“Come on, Wash,” he said, and gestured at Wash to join.

Wash shook his head, content to watch with the others and try to ignore the way the booze made his cheeks burn. Tucker just grinned even bigger and danced right up to Wash’s spot. Maine scooted out of the way, but before Wash could call him a traitor, Tucker began to tug on Wash’s hand.

“Come on, I thought you were awesome at all physical activity,” Tucker teased. Both of his hands enveloped one of Wash’s, his grip bleeding heat as he gave Wash’s hand another pull.

“I never said–” he started to say, but then South’s arms were under his arms and pushing him up.

The others were laughing and cheering Tucker on, and Wash gave Tucker the most exasperated look he could dredge up. Judging by the way the mirth on Tucker’s face didn’t fade in the slightest, it wasn’t Wash’s best effort.

After one more tug and push, Wash gave up and stumbled to his feet. He swayed as soon as he was upright, nearly knocking Tucker right over as he collided with his shoulders. Tucker’s hands came up to steady him and Wash took a step back as York shouted,

“Holy shit, Wash.”  

“Attention, assholes,” South announced. “We have finally done the near impossible–our baby rookie is drunk.” “

“What is that, the second time it’s happened in five months?” North asked, and Wash could feel his face growing hotter and hotter.

“Pretty sure it’s the first time,” Carolina commented, moving closer to watch the hilarity unfold.

“Fuck you guys, I started drinking before all of you and I’m not _that_ far gone,” Wash said, even though he could feel a complete lack of balance.

“You sure?” North asked.

“Don’t worry, Wash, we’ll get you there,” South assured him, all the earlier anger gone from her face.

“Besides, you _need_ to have a handicap like that if we ever want you to get fucked up,” York added.

“York just wants the company,” North teased.

“At least you know you’ll never reach that point, Wash,” Carolina said with a small smirk at York’s indignant expression.

All four of them dissolved into an argument and Wash looked away as their loud voices threatened to overwhelm him. The room kept swaying and he stumbled a little when Tucker tried to pull at him again. The others were all talking and laughing, the music swelling above and then fading below their voices in an endless cycle. Wash couldn’t focus on any single strand of sensory information for longer than a few seconds as fragments from all his senses jumbled together and slammed into him.

But throughout it all, Tucker’s joyful grin remained his focal point.

The song switched, but Tucker didn’t sit down and Wash stayed standing with him. Any of his attempts to dance simply turned into him stumbling a little and his face feeling as if he’d stuffed it in an oven. Tucker kept teasing, but none of the words were meant to leave barbs in his skin, only trigger the back and forth banter they had grown so comfortable with. At one point, Wash caught a glimpse of York disappearing through the patio door. Another moment later, his gaze snagged on South dragging Kai and North with her to get another drink.

Another song ticked by before Tucker finally gave up on trying to get Wash to do more than stand there awkwardly or stumble after Tucker’s lead. He kept laughing as he headed back to the couch, plopping down without a care for the poor springs of the couch. Wash went to join him, but his foot snagged on the corner of the couch, and he went crashing down onto Tucker.

He blinked, unable to determine how exactly he’d gone from flailing in a desperate attempt to keep his balance, to lying sprawled over Tucker’s lap. Tucker had gone still and even though Wash knew he should move, the warmth of another’s body and the comfort of lying down dissuaded him from trying.

“Uh, dude,” Tucker said from above him, and Wash blinked at the black fabric of the couch in his vision. “What are you doing?”

He meant to say he had fallen, but the alcohol seeping through his brain sent the memory of a previous conversation spiralling through his brain and coating his tongue.

“I’m cashing in the hug,” Wash replied, and a split second of silence filled the space between them.

“Whoa okay, hold on then.” Hands pushed at Wash’s shoulders and attempted to force him sit upright. “This kinda shit can’t be half assed.”

“What?” Wash asked, but Tucker didn’t explain.

He kept pulling at Wash’s shoulders until Wash reluctantly moved to kneel in an upright position. Only then did Tucker wrap his arms around him with one of the most serious expressions Wash had yet to see on his face. Wash closed his eyes as he rested his chin on Tucker’s shoulder after a second’s pause. He returned the hug and felt any last remnants of his stress fade away as a sense of tranquility overwhelmed him.

“This kinda shit?” Wash asked a few seconds later when his brain finally processed Tucker’s early words.

“Yeah, hugs and like, uh, cooking. Uh.”

“Very long list,” Wash commented, laughter bubbling in his throat.

“Shut up. Sex! Never half-ass sex.”

But it was too late. Wash had already begun to laugh, shaking in Tucker’s arms as the alcohol only fuelled his mirth. Tucker repeated his demand for Wash to be quiet,but Wash could feel the upturn of Tucker’s lips where his face pressed against Wash’s neck.

The loud sound of a pop can crashing against hardwood floor had both of them jolting apart a few minutes later. They both twisted around to see Kai standing in the middle of the room, glancing up at them with an apologetic expression.

“Sorry,” she said, though her voice didn’t sound any less cheerful than usual. “Dropped my Coke.”

She leaned down to pick it up and then shot Tucker a look Wash couldn’t read. He nodded at her, and then turned back to Wash while slumping into a sitting position. He knocked his shoulder against Wash with a smile and then returned his attention to the rest of the people still around the table.

“Alright,” Tucker said. “What did we miss?”

***

York leaned against the brick wall of the house, watching his breath make little puffs of white every time he exhaled. He’d pushed one of the folding chairs left outside against the house and sat with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets and his legs stretched out in front of him. One of his hands played with the small metal square of his lighter in the pocket, and he listened to the noises of his friends he could hear through the glass doors.

He heard the creak of the patio door opening but didn’t turn around. Light footsteps padded across the cement and he caught a glimpse of brilliant red in the corner of his eye.

“Hey there, Carolina,” York greeted her, and he twisted his gaze a little to see her offer him a slight smile.

He watched as she dragged another chair over beside his and then took a seat, pulling up the hood of her teal jacket. They sat in silence for a long moment, just listening and breathing together.

“Party getting too loud for you?” Carolina asked, and York laughed.

“More the booze’s fault,” York told her. Even when he promised himself he wouldn’t drink as much at a staff party, he always failed. “What about you?”

“I figured someone should make sure you didn’t freeze to death,” she said, and he grinned at her.

“Aw, I knew you cared.”

She shook her head at him, but the cheer remained in her face. It made breathing a little easier for York after she’d spent so much time those past few weeks looking lost in her own stressful thoughts. With each day that brought them closer to her examfor the RCMP, the more obsessed with perfection she seemed to become. Though at least she no longer seemed as likely to take Tex’s head off as she had in September.

In the quiet that followed, York pulled out his lighter and began to toss it through the air. Carolina snatched it at the height of its arc on his third throw, tucking it in her own pocket too fast for York to see.

“Don’t start that habit again, dumbass,” she chided, and he grinned at her.

“You’re gonna have a collection of those at home at this rate.”

“I only have two at home.”

“That’s how it starts. Soon you’ll be buried in them.”

“If I do, it’ll be your fault,” she replied.

“You shouldn’t blame others for your bad habits, Carolina,” he teased her.

The moment the words left his mouth, he realized they could easily fall into personal territory she didn’t like broaching with anyone. Something flickered in her expression, but her tone remained light when she spoke again. North would have said the only reason she didn’t snap back was because it was York. As much as York wanted to believe his feelings were mutual and thought he saw those flashesof affection, he also wanted to believe Carolina was simply learning to accept her own faults.

“I don’t think attempting to stop idiotic coworkers from destroying their lungs counts as a bad habit,” she said.

“True, but I’m pretty sure the law counts stealing as not so good. Isn’t that in the RCMP handbook?”

“Well I haven’t gotten one yet, so I wouldn’t know. I’ll be sure to let you know if it is.”

He grinned at her before it faded a little with the sincerity her words triggered.

“You know you’re gonna be fine, right?” York said, and she glanced at him. “With the RCMP and everything–they’d be lucky to have you. Hell, they should be thanking _you_ just for applying.”

She snorted, but he thought he saw appreciation shining in her green eyes. “I’m serious, it will be this year’s biggest outrage if they don’t accept you, start a riot and everything.”

“A riot,” she repeated, laughter contained within the notes of her voice.

“I think we have enough people on staff and with the water polo team combined to count as one.”

“Or just a really annoying group of people.”

“An annoying group of people you hang out with all the time.”

“Mmm,” Carolina hummed. “I suppose some of them aren’t _horrible_.”

York grinned at her and they fell quiet once more. The backyard lay in darkness, though they could see the back porch lights of some neighbours far in the distance. Stars peeked out from behind the drifting clouds above. York closed his eyes, content simply to sit in silence beside her for as long as she wanted.

He didn’t know how much time passed before the faint sound of humming broke him from his sparse thoughts. He listened for a few moments and then his eyes flew open as he recognized the tune. He whirled to Carolina where she sat humming a pop song, unable to keep his voice below a shout in his excitement.

“I knew you liked them!”

“Shut up, York,” she said without even looking at him.

“Come on, don’t try and deny it.”

“You’re drunk.”

“And totally right!”

“They got stuck in my head thanks to you, that’s all,” she said, but she smiled all the same.

York laughed and adamantly pushed away the urge to kiss her.

***

York and Carolina were still outside when Grif announced he was going to take Simmons and Donut home. He claimed both were going to die if they drank anymore, though Donut could at least stand without constantly leaning on Grif. Simmons on the other hand, while still conscious enough to try to protest Grif’s declaration, wouldn’t move a single inch away from Grif.

“No worries, that’s why I had Lopez bring the van with us,” Sarge said, waving away Wash’s drunken concern. “Gotta get these boys home somehow.”

“So they’ve got a driver too, huh?” Four Seven Niner asked with a slight smirk, and South shook her head.

“For someone who complains so much about us, you never actually tell us to fuck off.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve told you to fuck off several times, South.”

“You coming, Kai?” Grif asked over the sound of the sudden argument. She shook her head.

“Nah, I’m having way too much fun to leave now.”

“Everyone’s welcome to crash here,” North assured them despite the way he looked like he would fall over if he tried to stand up. “We’ll make sure she gets home if she wants to leave later.”

“I want to stay and have fun with everyone too!” Caboose shouted from where Church was trying to push him toward Sarge. Church closed his eyes briefly and then opened them again to give Caboose another firm push.

“I told you before, you gotta go home with Sarge when he wants to leave,” Church said, and looked to the older man for help. “That was the agreement.”  

“C’mon, son,” Sarge said, and moved toward Caboose.

Grif was trying to herd Simmons and Donut toward the door in the meantime. Donut kept drifting back toward Kai where she sat with North and South on a mattress, and Simmons leaned on Grif. Tucker’s shouting didn’t help much, and Grif turned around to yell at him to keep his attention on his boyfriend, which nearly set Simmons tumbling headfirst into the wall.

“We can even stop for snacks on the way if you’d like,” Sarge told Caboose in an attempt to get him to let go of Church. Lopez looked ready to simply carry them all to the van if he had the strength. “Lord knows Grif never stops eating so he’ll be more than happy to stop for something.”

“McDonalds is always open!” Grif shouted from where he dragged Donut through the doorway while Simmons sat against the wall.

“There you go, Caboose,” Church said, and pried Caboose’s fingers from his arm. “You can get as much ice cream as you want.” Church looked up at Sarge. “Just ask for extra fudge sauce if you get a sundae. He always gets sad otherwise.”

“ _Por qué no ustedes nunca hacer nada sin un centenar de desvíos inútiles?_ ” Lopez muttered _(why can’t you people ever do anything without a million pointless detours?)_ , and Sheila looked over to offer him an encouraging smile. Nobody understood the reply she gave him, but it seemed to cheer him up marginally.

“Ice cream _is_ better than juice,” Caboose said, consideration heavy in his voice. “Okay. You sure you don’t want any ice cream, Church?”

“I’m _sure,_ Caboose. Now go home and I’ll see you later.”   

He finally did as asked and followed Sarge toward the door. Donut had stumbled to the van and Grif returned to help Simmons make it with Sarge, Caboose, and Lopez taking up the rear. Sarge shouted back a pleasant goodbye to South about being a honourary Red, and then disappeared out the door.

The party began to wind down after the departure of the Reds and Caboose. Nothing nearly as exciting as jumping into the pool happened, but given the below zero temperatures outside, nobody felt the urge to repeat such an event.

Nobody set up any new drinking games, and instead everyone sat and sipped on whatever remained in their cup. Carolina and York were still outside, and Florida and Wyoming had retreated to the kitchen. Four Seven Niner, Tex, Church, Kai, North, and South all sat on one mattress by the TV. The girls continued to chat away while Church’s head rested in Tex’s lap and North leaned with his eyes closed against the wall. Kai made a comment about Church’s position, and Tex told her their deal was he could use her as pillow if she got to mess up his hair as much as she wanted.

On the couch, Maine and Tucker had teamed up to tease Wash, though Maine kept rolling his eyes at both of them. Every time Tucker laughed, he let his forehead drop to Wash’s shoulder and closed his eyes, the room no longer spinning as much with the action. Wash did nothing to push him away, hands constantly gripping at Tucker’s arms and legs as Wash leaned even closer in the depths of his drunkenness.

When sleep finally came for all of them, most were too tired and drunk to move further than the mattresses. Tex claimed one for herself and Church, while Sheila and Four Seven Niner took the couches. South, North, and Kai all simply passed out on the mattress they’d been talking on. Maine helped Wash and Tucker stumble over to a mattress, and then walked away with a shake of his head as the two collapsed onto it.

Tucker’s head fell onto Wash’s chest, one arm thrown across Wash while Wash’s arm got pinned beneath Tucker’s neck. Tucker shifted so Wash could move his arm, but he didn’t move away and Wash didn’t push him away. Tucker passed out a second later.

York and Carolina returned inside a few moments later, and York took one look at the scene around them before declaring,

“Guess we can sleep in North’s bed.” He glanced at Carolina. “Or you could take South’s and I get North’s.”

“We can share, I don’t care,” Carolina said with a shrug.

They headed upstairs after flicking off the living room lights and silence finally descended on the house.

***

The fifth time was the alcohol’s fault.

Simmons stumbled in the darkness of Grif’s apartment once they reached it, until Grif finally grabbed one of his arms to keep Simmons from falling over completely. Donut had collapsed onto the couch as soon as they reached the apartment, and he offered the two an incoherent good night.

They reached Grif’s bedroom before Simmons could bash his head in on the wall, and Grif didn’t bother turning on the lights. It had been a long time since Simmons had drank so much alcohol, but the happiness pounding through him eased away any thoughts of the negative side effects waiting for him in the morning. It also lent a positive glow to most of the nights’ events, and he felt proud that he managed to enjoy himself once Grif and him were talking like they used to and he got to know the lifeguards a bit more.

Simmons swayed in the middle of the room, opening his mouth as he wanted to tell Grif about how happy he felt in that moment. But the words kept tangling in his mouth and judging by the teasing tone in Grif’s voice, Simmons wasn’t making much sense.

Simmons blinked a little when he realized Grif stood right in front of him. Grif’s voice broke the silence of the dark air, but the words didn’t make any sense to Simmons. He swayed once more, but this time, his body carried him into Grif’s personal space.

It wasn’t so much of a kiss as a sloppy touch of lips, Simmons tilting forward and brushing his lips against Grif’s in the process. He tried to go for another one, but lost his balance, and Grif had to grab both his arms to keep him from falling on his ass.

When Grif finally let go again, Simmons took a step backward and found himself sprawled across Grif’s bed. A contented sigh escaped his lips as he wiggled to get more comfortable and burrowed his face into the soft mattress.

Sleep consumed him.

Simmons knew as soon as he woke up he had gotten far too little sleep, especially given how much he had drank. The light that managed to creep through the edges of Grif’s blinds barely brightened the darkness, and no sounds could be heard throughout the house. Simmons thought he could hear the chirping of a bird outside the window, but it stopped a moment later.

A headache already began to pound in Simmons’ head, but the solid warmth pressed against him distracted him from the physical pain for a long moment.

He opened his eyes and tilted his head up. In the darkness, he could just make out the outline of Grif’s head as he snored by Simmons’ own. Simmons was pressed against his friend’s right side, Grif’s arm wrapped around Simmons and keeping him close to his bulk. Simmons lay on his side and his hand rested on Grif’s slowly moving chest. Simmons inhaled sharply and struggled to ignore the affection he could feel settling over his entire being.

He could only struggle for so long, though, and for a moment Simmons allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to have this every morning. He imagined admitting the reason he didn’t want to share the bed with Grif was not because he hated Grif’s cuddling tendencies, but because he wanted it too much. Wanted to tangle their legs together beneath the cool sheets. Wanted to wake up with Grif’s warm body pressed to his own, arm draped around him and his own hand feeling the steady beat of Grif’s heart. Wanted to kiss the sleepy look off Grif’s face when he first awoke. 

Suddenly he found he couldn’t swallow, not just because of the dehydration, but from the desperate longing that choked him. After that first kiss happened, it grew harder and harder with each day to resist repeating the action and falling further outside the boundaries of friendship. When Simmons remained fully immersed in the realm of possibility and ignorant of the reality of kissing, his walls of resistance had only ever shaken. Now that he knew exactly how Grif tasted and what being this close to him felt like, his walls of resistance were crumbling with each passing second.

Yet he knew, rationally, he needed to stop. He needed to be strong and withdraw firmly back behind the lines of friendship. He was not childish or naïve enough to believe a kiss born out of desperation, anxiety, adrenaline, and out of drunkenness might mean anything more than the sentiments of those moments. And while the first one had been fuelled by an affection that ran underneath all of the following ones, affection alone was not enough to keep a relationship afloat.

For one, there was no guarantee Grif felt anything more than friendship for Simmons. Simmons thought it perfectly possible Grif was simply going along with Simmons’ actions because he was too lazy to bother resisting or stopping him. For another, Simmons’ father would find out. He would find out, cut Simmons’ off, kick Simmons out, and make sure the only thing waiting for Simmons in his future was a part-time job at a fast food joint surrounded by pimply teenagers.

Movement from Grif had Simmons’ thoughts spluttering to a stop and Simmons felt himself go still on instinct. A few seconds of silence passed before Grif sighed and then spoke.

“Whatever you’re thinking about, shut the fuck up and go to sleep, Simmons.”

And Simmons did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riding the bus in "Ride the Bus" is when someone places six cards face down and turns over one. The person riding the bus has to guess if the next card flipped up will be higher or lower than the first one. Every time you guess wrong you have to drink and start over again. 
> 
> I hope this party chapter was as enjoyable as the first one!


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bet’chya he was looking for that empty brain of his,” Jacob said.
> 
> “Maybe the birds stole it,” Luke suggested. “It’s so small, they thought it was theirs.”

Church waited until Junior had fallen fast asleep and Tucker lounged in front of the TV while making half-hearted attempts to study before he pounced. He dropped into the seat beside Tucker, who didn’t bother to look up from the textbook he scowled at. The TV blared aggressive commercials at them, and Church lowered the volume until all sound vanished.

“So, Tucker,” Church said after a moment of silence. “You gonna tell me about you and Wash now?”

Tucker’s pen paused between his fingers and he glanced at his roommate. Church wore a smirk that promised a headache for anyone within a five kilometer radius, and Tucker prayed Junior would suddenly need him.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Tucker asked when his son remained asleep and Church’s gaze stayed on him.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Church replied, and Tucker didn’t let his expression flicker in the face of Church’s sarcasm. “Maybe the fact that you were plastered all over him last night. Or the fact that you were fucking scared you were gonna make out with him.”

Church stared at him and Tucker gave up any pretenses of studying. He met his friend’s gaze even as he felt his face heat up at the memory of that morning. There had been nothing abnormal about the second time Tucker had awoken when half of the guests, including Wash, were awake making breakfast in the kitchen.

But Tucker had woken up once before that around six am to relieve himself, long before anyone else in the house was up. That time he woke with his cheek pressed to Wash’s collarbone and one of Wash’s arms keeping him close to the lifeguard’s side. Caught between consciousness and sleep, sobriety and drunkenness, Tucker only gave his attention to his full bladder. When he stumbled back from the bathroom, he hadn’t bothered to try and find another sleeping arrangement, just curled beside Wash once more and drifted off again.

Those actions were much harder to shrug off under Church’s gaze, with no alcohol to keep Tucker’s thoughts from veering into panic mode.

“I was drunk,” Tucker finally said in way of explanation. “You know how I get drunk.”

None of the other lifeguards had teased Wash and Tucker any more for their actions than after the first staff party. The jokes and blackmail were spread equally amongst everyone, leaving Tucker safe to ignore any less than platonic actions he’d done the night before, and how happy Wash’s smile made him that morning.

“You’ve been texting him every day,” Church said, and Tucker’s phone vibrated as if to prove Church’s point. Church grabbed the phone before Tucker could even move, and he opened the message as Tucker swore at him. “You’re teaching him how to fucking cook?”

“So? I fucking taught you how to cook shit when we moved into that apartment in second year.”

“You hang out with him almost every day outside of water polo now.”

“I see _you_ every day.”

“You do domestic shit together.”

“The fuck do you call us living together?”

“He gives you rides.”

“He’s being considerate.”

“You think he’s good with Junior.”

“Dude, you and _Tex_ are good with Junior some of the time,” Tucker pointed out, and Church scowled at him.

“Yeah, but guess what? You’ve never wanted to fucking kiss me before.”

“Well there was that one time last ye–”

“That was Tex’s idea,” Church cut him off.

“She said it, but we were all thinking it,” Tucker said, for focusing on that event was a lot easier than giving Church’s words access to his own thoughts. Just listening to them made his heart pound, even as his mind veered away from romantic notions like a mosquito from bug spray.

“Whatever, Tucker, that’s not the fucking point,” Church snapped. “You don’t have a crush on me or Tex, but you sure as hell have a massive one on Wash for whatever godforsaken reason.”

“It will be _fine_ , Church, alright?” Tucker moved his gaze back to the TV, refusing to look at his roommate’s skeptical expression and the phone that kept vibrating in Church’s hand. “It’s not a big deal. We’re just friends and whatever this weird ass mood I’m in will go away. I’m not gonna do anything stupid, and I’m definitely not gonna fuck up this friendship now that I’ve got it.”

“And what if you get drunk with him again?” Church asked after a pause. “Cuz I gave you good fucking advice last night, but I sure as hell won’t be babysitting your drunk ass to make sure you don’t do something dumb when I’ve got my own girlfriend to make out with.”

“Kai will cover me. She did last night.”

She had also texted him that day saying, _u r so fucking lucky u had me last night._

Tucker could feel Church staring at him, but he didn’t turn away from the TV.

“Why the fuck do you even care if I like him or not?” Tucker asked, even though he knew neither one of them had ever been the most passive bystander in the other’s dating life.

After a long moment, Tucker startled when Church dropped the phone into his lap and stalked away.

“Fine, but you better not fucking sulk cuz of this and expect me to be sympathetic.”

“I never expect you to be sympathetic, asshole!” Tucker called after him as Church disappeared into the kitchen.

Tucker heard Church snort, but he didn’t make any other response. Tucker waited a few minutes, but all he heard was Church washing the dishes and then retreating into his own room. When another five minutes passed in silence, Tucker pushed the conversation as far down in his mind as he could manage, and then started replying to Wash’s texts.

***

Epsilon hurried away from the screams of freed children and the honking of parents waiting in their cars as quickly as possible after school.

None of the other children who Ms. Kimball babysat went to the same school as Epsilon, and so he walked to her home after school by himself every day. She had offered to pick him up, but he insisted he was twelve years old; far old enough to walk home by himself. Technically, he could legally stay home by himself, but he hated being alone in a dark house more than he liked to admit.

Plus, the novelty of being able to make Poptarts for dinner every night wore off quickly.

Epsilon veered onto a quiet residential street and wondered if that was why Sigma and Omega still went to Ms. Kimball’s despite their older age. That, and Ms. Kimball had a bunch of game consoles she let them play on when the weather was shitty, and more books than Sigma had at home.

Epsilon ducked under a low hanging branch at the entrance of a small pathway that wound itself between the sides of two homes. The path led down a hill, small grove of trees on either sides, and then opened up onto another street.

Epsilon let the momentum of the downhill slope carry him into a run, blue backpack thumping against his back. He jumped onto the next street, kicking as hard as he could at a small stone a foot away. It skidded out of sight, and he glanced around the neighbourhood. After spotting nothing new or particularly photo worthy, he continued on his way.

The light in the sky above began to fade, and Epsilon glanced up at the shapes of clouds melding into one mass of grey. Another turn brought him to a street lined with rows of sagging trees, a rusty playground devoid of children and encompassed by monstrous hedges up ahead.

Epsilon was moving his gaze from the sky back to the ground when he spotted it. A small bird perched high in a tree, the blue of its wings the only smidge of colour against the grey backdrop of the world.

Epsilon paused on the sidewalk, staring up at the still bird as his hands tightened around the straps of his backpack. The street stayed quiet, not a single vehicle to scare away the bird with its rumble. The bird stayed there, staring up at the sky it would soon soar through for its migration.

Such a momentarily striking scene would only fade in human memory, a roll of undeveloped film left forgotten amongst the rest of the mind’s mundane clutter.

Before Epsilon could lower his backpack and retrieve his phone from the pocket inside, he heard the rustle of bushes and the clatter of stones being scattered on the ground.

“Hey, Ep,” a boy’s voice called when Epsilon went still.

Then he looked away from the bird and began walking down the sidewalk again. Not too quickly, but not the slower pace he used when his attention was devoted to the world around him. Not looking back or down at the ground, just straight ahead at the cross street looming on the horizon.

“Ep, Ep.”

He didn’t reply and for a few quiet seconds, it seemed they might move on.

A childish war cry came from behind him and then the sound of running feet.

Epsilon broke into a sprint.

He veered through the playground, pounding across the tarmac and flying past the swing set. Metal posts stood sentry at the end of the path, and he grabbed one to swing himself to the right. The boys were still shouting behind him, voices louder with their increased closeness.

There was nobody else around, abandoned toys lying on the lawns Epsilon ran by. He could see the end of the street where it intersected with Ms. Kimball’s block up ahead, a row of hedges blocking the rest of the street from sight.

Pylons blocked the sidewalk halfway down the street, and Epsilon leapt onto the lawn to avoid them.

Hands grabbed at his ankles and Epsilon went crashing to the ground. His fingers dug into the grass and he struggled to push himself up as quickly as he could. The moment he didn’t get back up was the moment he lost.

But he only got a few inches before hands wrapped around his ankles again and dragged him to the ground. He lashed out with his legs, squirming and hoping to connect with someone’s face.

The grip loosened and Epsilon scrambled to his feet.

But two boys now blocked the way to Ms. Kimball’s street, and another climbed to his feet from where had he grabbed at Epsilon. Epsilon took a step back, but stopped before he got in range of the other two.

“Go away, Marc,” Epsilon snapped.

The brown haired boy in front of him just tilted his head at him. Of the three boys, only the blond Jacob who stood behind Epsilon was bigger than the average boy in their grade. Marc stayed just as tall and skinny as Epsilon, whereas the redheaded Luke was as small as Theta. He made up for his small stature by biting and scratching and twisting other boys into submission.

“What were you looking at, Ep?” Marc asked instead. His hands were splayed at his sides, dirt beneath the nails from when he’d grabbed Epsilon earlier.

He always like going for the ankles, like a predator taking out the legs of its prey so it couldn’t escape.

“None of your business,” Epsilon said, and shifted from foot to foot. “Now leave me alone.”

“Bet’chya he was looking for that empty brain of his,” Jacob said.

“Maybe the birds stole it,” Luke suggested. “It’s so small, they thought it was theirs.”

“Actually I was looking for all of yours,” Epsilon shot back. “But I forgot I should be looking in the _dirt_ for them.”

Marc’s face twisted, and for a brief second, Epsilon heard his mom’s voice telling him he really should stop talking back so much.

Then Marc launched himself at Epsilon. Epsilon tried to punch him, and twisted away to escape. The other two were quick to grab at him, sending him sprawling onto the pavement as layers of skin were ripped off. He tried to scramble away, but he could never fight off all three boys. He could outrun them sometimes, but never beat them when they had him trapped. And whether he talked or stayed quiet, they wouldn’t stop hurting him.

They grabbed at Epsilon’s arms and waist, and it didn’t take long for the three boys to force Epsilon to the lawn beside them. He tried twisting away from the kicks and hands, but there were no gaps to crawl through and escape. He drew his limbs into himself for protection, and tried to keep his backpack from being ripped away.

When he tried biting Luke’s fingers, the boy shoved Epsilon’s face into the grass and he gagged on the dirt. He could hear Marc’ muffled voice and the blows momentarily stopped.

The boys began to tug at his backpack instead, and Epsilon snarled at them and lashed out with his legs. Jacob twisted his arms behind him and sat on his back so he struggled to inhale the smallest of breaths.

“Here’s your dirt, Epsilon,” Marc snapped at him, and the sound of a zipper being ripped open filled the air.

Epsilon twisted his head as best he could to see Luke and Marc laughing as they shoved handfuls of dirt into his bag. Squirming worms dangled in the boys’ hands and Luke flung one into the air.

Epsilon tried to throw Jacob off, but the boy was a mountain crushing his back. A part of him stayed relieved despite the pain and frantic desire to escape that engulfed the rest of him. His phone rested in a zipped pouch that remained hidden by a piece of fabric his mom sewed in for him. The dirt wouldn’t hurt the phone from there and the boys wouldn’t find it simply tossing handfuls of the earth inside.

“Hey hey, all that dirt is probably thirsty,” Jacob said, and Marc grinned as he pulled out a bottle of water from his bag.

Liquid sloshed inside and Epsilon twisted as they let a few drops fall on his face. Then he began to squirm even harder than before, his frenzied motions momentarily knocking Jacob off balance. But the boy regained his position quickly, and Epsilon felt his breath growing short with panic. A little dirt was nothing, but water would damage his phone as surely as a taking a brick to it.

“Theta!” The sudden call of Katie’s voice caused all the boys to freeze, water bottle tipped toward the bag but no water spilling out yet. “You know you can’t go where I can’t see you!”

The sound of skateboard wheels against pavement filled the air. Epsilon lifted his head toward the hedge, but he couldn’t see through the greenery.

“I know, I know!” Theta called back, and the sound of his skateboard increased in volume.

Seconds ticked by, the boys trapped in their indecision while the sound of Theta’s skateboard and his loud humming grew louder and louder. When the noise threatened to barrel through the hedge and reveal the scene to the neighbouring street, Marc hissed,

“Run!”

The boys scrambled away from Epsilon, Jacob offering one last knee to Epsilon’s bruised spine. They let his backpack thump back onto Epsilon’s back, dirt spilling onto his neck and into his hair.

Epsilon blinked at the ground as he tried to catch his breath. Then he slowly pushed himself onto his knees just as Theta rounded the corner.

The boy drew to a stop on his skateboard, stepping off it when he spotted the older boy.

“Epsilon!” he said, and ran up to him as Epsilon got to his feet. “What were you doing?”

“Napping,” Epsilon said quickly as bits of dirt trickled down the back of his shirt. Theta frowned at him, and his eyes went wide when he spotted the scrapes on Epsilon’s knees, arms, and face.

“Why are you bleeding?”

“I fell off the monkey bars at recess,” Epsilon lied, guilt pricking at him when he saw the concern on Theta’s small face. “But I’m okay. I just need some band aids and it’ll be fine.”

Theta didn’t look convinced, but he followed Epsilon when he limped toward the hedge.

“Y’know, I’m getting really good at skateboarding,” Theta told him as they turned onto Ms. Kimball’s street. Epsilon could see Katie standing at the end of Ms. Kimball’s driveway, and when he waved to her, she waved back and disappeared inside the house.

“That right?”

“I’m so good, I could go all the way to your school after my teacher lets us out,” Theta said. “And then we could walk home together and you wouldn’t have to walk alone.”

Epsilon glanced down at the younger boy and his eager smile. He looked down at his own scrapes and bruises and imagined them on Theta’s body. He imagined how scared Theta would be if Marc and the other two tackled him. How hard he would try to escape or maybe even fight back if it was for Epsilon’s sake.

How much they would hurt him because of Epsilon.

How much he would cry because of Epsilon.

“I don’t think Ms. Kimball would say okay,” Epsilon said. “And what about Delta? You just gonna leave him with Omega and Andersmith?”

“He could come with us,” Theta insisted, and jumped onto his skateboard again.

“I don’t think he can fit on that with you.”

“He can run.”

Before Epsilon could respond, someone else called his name. The two boys looked up to see the twins careening down the street toward them. Iota clutched Eta’s hand, dragging her sister behind her as she headed straight for Epsilon. For a moment, Epsilon thought she might run right through him, but she stopped inches away. She released her sister’s hand and threw her arms around Epsilon instead.

“Hey, Iota,” he greeted her, supressing a fond smile. The girl beamed up at him and then turned to Theta.

“Theta!” she cried, and Theta quickly jumped off his skateboard. Iota hugged him even though she’d probably seen him moments ago, and the younger boy returned her hug with just as much enthusiasm.

“What happened to your face?” Eta asked Epsilon from where she stood a foot away studying his face. Epsilon scowled at her, but the expression didn’t dissuade her curiosity any more than Omega’s glare did.

“I fell off the monkey bars at school,” Epsilon told her.

“What about your knees?”

“I fell.”

“Why are you so dirty?”

“I was lying down on the grass.”

“Why were you doing that?”

“Why do you only ask questions all the time?”

“I don’t _only_ ask questions,” Eta said. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “I tell Iota and Theta plenty of stories. And I was skateboarding before you showed up–I’m even better than Theta now.”

She grabbed Theta’s skateboard from his hand and took off before he could get a word out. They watched her roll down the street a few feet before performing a small jump. Theta ran after her, shouting at her that he could do the same thing.

Epsilon looked down when Iota shoved her hand in his own and then started walking toward the other two. Epsilon just followed her, combating the residue feeling of violent hands gripping his body with the sensation of Iota’s hand holding his in a demonstration of her endless affection.

“Omega here today?” Epsilon asked them when Theta and Eta finally stopped competing. They still stood a few houses away from Ms. Kimball’s, though the sight of Epsilon arriving seemed enough to assure Katie everything would be fine if she remained inside.

“Inside,” Theta told him. “But he’s in a really bad mood.”

“He’s _always_ in a bad mood,” Epsilon said, and looked toward the house. Sometimes the older boy didn’t come to the Ms. Kimball’s during the week, but hung-out with his classmates instead. He texted Ms. Kimball anytime it happened, though he usually still showed up for dinner.

“But he’s swearing even more today,” Theta said, and Iota nodded with a sad expression.

“I think it’s cuz of his birthday,” Iota said.

“Do you think if we told him he’d feel better?” Theta asked, and Epsilon once more wondered at Theta’s concern for someone who yelled at all of them so often.

“We could give him clues,” Iota suggested. “Like a scavenger hunt!”

“You guys know it is supposed to be a surprise.”

They all turned at the sound of Delta’s disapproving voice to see the boy walking toward them. The three younger children all grinned at him, and Epsilon offered him a lazy wave.

“Ms. Kimball told us that on Monday _and_ today,” Delta continued when he reached them. “We shouldn’t ruin the surprise.”

“Why would he even want a surprise party?” Eta grumbled. “Surprises are dumb.”

“Don’t worry, Eta,” Iota assured her sister. “I promise I won’t ever give you a surprise party.”

“Yeah, well it’s _Omega’s_ birthday,” Epsilon reminded the twins. “So it doesn’t matter if you think it’s dumb. Ms. Kimball thinks he’ll like it and we’re not supposed to ruin it.”

 _Even if he’s an asshole_ , Epsilon thought. The three youngest children looked disappointed, but the sound of Ms. Kimball’s voice calling to them from the porch had their faces brightening again.

“We can have snacks now that everyone’s here,” she told them.

Her words triggered a mad scramble for the door. Theta raced after Eta with his skateboard tucked under one arm. Iota grabbed Delta’s hand and kept her other wrapped around Epsilon’s before dragging them toward the door. Delta kept telling her not to pull so hard, but Epsilon said nothing as he let the loud laughter of the other children carry him along.

***  
**  
**

Epsilon skidded into the long hallway that ran behind the guardroom and led to the washrooms. The door leading to the pool deck slowly swung shut behind him, cutting off the shrill sound of children’s excitement and Theta’s loud counting. The older boys had told him to count to a minute before coming to look for them, though Katie reminded them they still weren’t allowed to run, leave the building, or go anywhere the lifeguards said were off bounds.

Which didn’t leave very many places to hide, but Epsilon was determined not to lose.

He scurried down the hallway while checking over his shoulder several times. When he reached the door that led into the lobby of the pool, he pulled open the door inch by inch. Once there was a gap big enough for him to see through, he paused and did a quick survey of the room. The only person in sight was a teenager with orange streaked hair watching something on the computer at the U-shaped front desk. No other patrons were in sight.

Epsilon lowered himself to his knees without a sound, phone tucked into a small plastic bag inside his dry swimming suit. He had never forgotten to take the phone out before he went swimming, but his mom loved telling him it was better to be safe than sorry.

On his knees, Epsilon paused once more to see if the teenager had noticed anything, but he didn’t look up from his computer. Just as Epsilon lifted one arm to begin his crawl toward the desk, a man entered the lobby from outside, and Epsilon scrambled backwards.

The door shifted shut in front of him and Epsilon waited in silence for the man to shove open the door and start yelling at Epsilon. The seconds ticked by, and the only sound came from the blood rushing in Epsilon’s ears.

His heartbeat gradually returned to normal when still nobody came to the door, and Epsilon moved back onto his knees to pull open the door again.

When he opened it enough to see out, he found both the teenager from the front desk and the man were gone. Epsilon looked all around the room for a few more beats of silence, and when still nobody appeared, he scuttled toward the desk on his hands and knees.

The desk formed a U with its tips pointing toward the back wall, and its sides parallel to the hallway door and entrance to the building. However, there were small gaps at the back of the tips rather than any form of a gate, and Epsilon crawled through one quickly. Then he hurried to duck beneath the surface of the desk.

Epsilon allowed himself a moment of triumph and a grin crossed his face. Theta would never think to look where Epsilon hid, and the teenager seemed like he would care more about whatever video he was watching to get through his shift than a couple of kids playing hide-and-go-seek. Epsilon would promise not to touch anything, and everything would be fine.

A rustling sound had him flinching back and drawing his limbs up to his chest to avoid being seen. He listened and waited, but the teenager didn’t walk around the desk and return to his spot. Instead the rustling noise continued, then stopped.

Epsilon unfolded his legs and began to creep around the desk to one of the gaps, careful not to let any part of him fall beyond the cover of the desk’s surface. When he reached the end, he waited another few seconds and then poked his head out from behind the desk.

The man from earlier stood by the front of the desk, gaze on the papers he held in his hand. He glanced once behind him to the entrance of the building and then returned his thoughtful stare to the item in his hands. The angle Epsilon kneeled at in comparison to the man and the way the man held himself in that moment caused Epsilon’s hands to twitch for the camera in his phone. With one hand clutching the edge of the desk in case he needed to duck back into cover at any moment, Epsilon began to slide the phone out from his pocket.

At the same time, the man pulled out a lighter.

All of Epsilon’s motions stopped and his eyes widened. The man raised the lighter and clicked it open. Flame burst into being and the man didn’t hesitate before feeding the paper to the fire’s greedy maw.

Epsilon dragged his phone out and removed it from the plastic bag quickly. He clicked open the camera and hurried to position the phone, but the man had already begun to turn away from the burning papers he placed on top of the desk. Epsilon’s camera went off without a sound, and Epsilon moved back beneath the desk as he drew the phone to his face as the photo loaded.

The camera had caught the man mid-turn, illuminating the profile of his face and frame of his body. The orange spot of flame sat on one side and Epsilon could make out the lighter in the man’s hand when he squinted at the picture. But the main physical features the photo caught were the man’s darker skin, the clothes he wore, the physical build, and the short cut of his hair. His face remained mostly hidden from view.

Epsilon glanced up from the photo just as he heard a door slam shut.

_The fire._

Epsilon shot to his feet. Too late he remembered he had ducked back beneath the desk, and his head slammed against the undersurface when he tried to stand.

Pain exploded in his head and he crumpled to his feet as quickly as he’d straightened. Tears sprung to his eyes and he clutched at his head. For a moment, his mind supplied him with the terrifying idea of a split skull and rushing blood, but the memory of flickering flames burned them away.

Epsilon moved into open space and stood up, vision blurry with the tears obscuring it. He could see the fire clear enough and he ran out from behind the desk at the sight. He stopped in the middle of the lobby, panic clawing at his throat and pain burrowing beneath his skull.

Epsilon tried to remember what his teachers and parents always told him to do in a fire, and amid the endless litany of _stop, drop, and roll_ echoing in his mind, he spotted the red fire alarm resting on the wall by the door to the hallway.

With the papers still burning, Epsilon sprinted to the alarm and pulled the lever down.

A loud wailing that made Epsilon clutch his aching head even harder filled the air. There were too many tears to keep trapped in his eyes and Epsilon gripped his phone as drops of liquid fell down his face.

Instead of bolting for the entrance door, Epsilon headed toward the men’s locker room back to the pool deck where the other children and Ms. Kimball would be. Ms. Kimball would know what to do from there, and she would make the pain in his head go away just like she always made Theta feel better whenever he fell off his skateboard.

The noise on the pool deck was even worse, with the lifeguards yelling to be heard over the sound of the alarm. They were directing everyone toward the emergency exits by the diving boards rather than back through the locker rooms, and Epsilon searched the crowd rushing people for those that he knew.

“Epsilon!”

Ms. Kimball’s voice carried over the cacophony of noise, and he turned toward the sound. The sharp motion caused little bursts of sharper pain, and he felt the desire to be held choke him.

He blinked, and suddenly Ms. Kimball stood in front of him. She knelt in front of him despite the urgency of the atmosphere around them, and studied his expression quickly.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

“I hit my head,” Epsilon told her. The admission sounded much wobblier than he ever would have allowed if not for the tears already dripping down his chin and how much he wanted to cry even harder.

Ms. Kimball’s expression softened in sympathy, and she wrapped strong arms around him for just a moment. Epsilon held on tightly in return, not caring if Omega was around to see and make fun of him for later. Ms. Kimball pulled away and she kept a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, we have to get outside and then I’ll take a look at your head, alright?”

Epsilon followed her outside where everyone else from the pool were gathered anxiously. Many had grabbed their towels from the benches and the lifeguards were directing people to wait inside the café beside the pool due to the cooler temperatures. Ms. Kimball and Epsilon began to move toward the building and toward the other children when Ms. Kimball’s phone started to ring without stopping. She glanced down at the screen, and Epsilon caught a glimpse of the words _Sigma’s parents_ in brackets beside the name before Ms. Kimball pushed it back into her pocket.

“Andersmith,” Ms. Kimball called when she spotted the man a few seconds later where he stood with Omega and Sigma. “You and Katie take them all inside. See if you can get some ice for Epsilon’s head–he hit it at the pool.”

She gave Epsilon’s shoulder a squeeze and smiled at him. “The ice will help for now. I’ll come in once I’m done with the call and make sure everything’s alright, okay?”

Epsilon nodded his head even though her presence reassured him the most out of all the babysitters. But the phone was still ringing and she was moving away from the crowds so she could answer, so Epsilon just watched her go. The memory of the flames and the man he’d seen broke through the pain in his head, and he glanced around as Andersmith called his name. He spotted the man where he remained outside with another person, and words bubbled on Epsilon’s tongue.

“Epsilon?” Andersmith asked, and Epsilon’s gaze flickered to where Ms. Kimball stood still as she talked on the phone.

“I saw something,” he said, voice quiet in his lack of confidence.

“You saw something?”

They both turned at the sound of a woman’s demanding voice to see another lifeguard standing there. Epsilon took a step back at the intensity in her gaze, the purple tips of her hair falling into the eyes locked on Epsilon’s face.

“Did you see something to do with the fire, kid?” the lifeguard asked again, and Epsilon swallowed as he remembered how indistinct the identity of the man was in the picture on his phone.

Epsilon glanced over to where the man who had set the fire stood in his uniform and spoke with another patron. The smile he wore reminded Epsilon of the ones Marc always gave their teacher when she looked over at them as Marc swore at Epsilon under his breath. Except Marc was just a kid and this person was a grown-up, with as much power and money as Epsilon’s teachers and parents.

Epsilon turned back to the lifeguard who wasn’t Washington and wasn’t Tex. He glanced at the babysitter who wasn’t Ms. Kimball.

“Sorry,” Epsilon told them both. “I was just joking. I didn’t actually see anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bird Epsilon spotted is a Cerulean Warbler. Also, I am slowly realizing there are way too many ways to refer to Kimball, but I am doing my best to base the exposition references on which character's POV it is. 
> 
> I'm really happy to hear everyone enjoyed the second staff party as much as the first, and I hope you guys liked this new chapter!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re awake now, Church.”

When Allison first died, Church heard the words “landmine” and “bomb blast” and “explosion radius” everywhere. They were always whispered from one adult to the next, furtive glances sent over their shoulders before they gave voice to such terms. The words were never said around the Director, who barely acknowledged his own kin in his grief, let alone the neighbours and friends who came to offer condolences and support.

But Church heard them.

And Church, being the curious and rebellious child that he was, looked up the terms online.

Not only did he look up those specific terms, but he also typed “bomb blast victims” into the Google images search bar, for that’s what Allison was.

He made it through four images before he had to race to the bathroom to throw up, shaking and crying as he did.

That night Church had nightmares about Allison’s mutilated body as he had several times before, but that night the images were fuelled by reality. He woke up twisted in sheets wet from sweat and urine, and spent an hour sneaking the dirty sheets into the laundry and new sheets onto his bed from the closet.

Church grew older and the grief dulled, but the nightmares never went away permanently. They would leave him alone for months on end, then plague his sleep during times of high stress.

Worst of all, the nightmares weren’t static entities. They changed with Church, twisting the bloody victims into the shapes of the new people who entered Church’s life. Any teachers he liked, people he didn’t hate from his high school, Tucker, Junior, the rest of the Reds and Blues, Carolina, Tex; their dismembered bodies all lay beside Allison’s at some point in Church’s nightmares.

Which was why early Thursday morning, Church found himself being shaken from his nightmare by Tex. He shot upright with a sharp inhale that dragged the shattered remains of his nightmare through his throat to scrape against his lungs. In the dark silence of the room, he couldn’t tell where he was or stop his ears from ringing with the sound of a bomb detonating and Tex’s screams.

The pressure on his shoulder cut through the other sensations, but he couldn’t make his head turn to find the source. He could barely get in enough air to keep himself from passing out, and the bed shifted beneath him. A figured moved into Church’s field of vision, the pressure on his shoulder moving to his bare knees.

“Church.”

The syllables of his name spoken in a soft voice filled the air. Over and over again the sound brushed against Church’s ears, shoving away the echoes of the nightmare in order to carve out a space for itself.

“Church, it’s okay.”

Again and again, the same whisper. Church took another breath, and the words latched onto the molecules being pulled inside. Down his throat they went, soothing the rawness the nightmares had wrought. Inside his lungs the words swirled, hacking away the blockage the residue images had left piled there, and encouraging his lungs to return to their normal rhythm.

“You’re awake now, Church.”

Finally, Church lifted his head and focused on his surroundings. His eyes adjusted to the dark enough to make out the fall of Tex’s hair and the outline of her body. She opened her mouth to speak, and the dimmest shade of white joined the darkness around them.

“You’re okay, Church,” she said. “Everyone is okay.”

Tex kept one hand on his knee and slowly slipped her other one into Church’s hand. He clutched at the unbroken limb and let her warmth seep into his fingers. He lifted his other shaking hand to her face, fingers pressing against her cheek and then searching beneath her hair for the blood he’d seen in his nightmares.

“Fuck,” he hissed.

The first time Tex had entered his nightmares, three weeks after they started dating officially for the first time, he had woken up screaming her name. He hadn’t told her about them until after they first broke up and got back together. Even then he hadn’t outright told her, for part of the reason she broke up with him initially was his supposed clinginess, and he knew she hated being defined by any other person beyond herself.

Then, one night when they were sleeping together, she woke him because he had been tossing and whimpering in his sleep. She hadn’t asked that time, just held him until he went back to sleep.

It happened five more times before Tex eventually learned the cause. Church finally told her one night when he was slightly drunk on wine at her apartment, and she had listened to every word he said before asking him if he would prefer she use touch as a grounding source or rather she give him his space immediately following the nightmares.

Now, Church didn’t hesitate to trace the outline of her body for any sign of the wounds she’d suffered in his nightmare. Now, he knew she would let him do so in silence before tugging him back down onto the bed. Now, he didn’t wait to curl against her body, face mashed against her shoulder and hands tangling in the front of her t-shirt as she wrapped her arms around his body.

Church closed his eyes and began counting each breath in his head in an attempt to focus only on his body and keep the images away. His heart still pounded faster than it should, sweat not yet dry on his skin.

Minutes ticked by and his heartbeat still wouldn’t return to normal like usual. Church squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, but his concentration kept being broken, fragments of the violent images bursting in his mind like fireworks. Every time it happened, he swore internally and started his counting all over again.

But he kept having to start over. First at a hundred breaths, then sixty, then forty-two, thirty-one, twenty-three; less and less time passed between the breaks in his focus and Church felt himself begin to panic again. His chest tightened and his face flushed with the increase in blood flow.

Church clenched his jaw, desperate not to make a sound, desperate to push the panic away.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t get it out of his head, couldn’t get his body to listen to him, and couldn’t get his mind back on his side. His control became as intangible as his breath.

The screams were getting louder and the sensation of blood-coated skin crept over his own flesh and this was bad. This was bad, bad, bad, and he needed to stop it. He needed to calm down, and he needed to not wake Tex again because even if she was understanding most of the times, she still hated it when he let the past define them. She hated it when he looked into the future and saw only the Director, hated it when anyone compared her to Allison, hated it when people categorized her by a person they used to know or person they wanted her to be.

She would think he was being clingy again and then she would say it wasn’t healthy, she needed space and he needed to get his shit together. He needed to not be so melodramatic all the time, to stop acting like he knew what was best for everyone all the time while being deaf to their own opinions. He needed to stop, stop, stop, stop, _stop_.

“Church.”

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

“Church.”

Church tried to make himself roll away to give her space, but his grip on her shirt just locked into place instead. Tex shifted beside him and he couldn’t make himself let go. She straightened into a sitting position, and he followed with her in order to keep some contact between them.

If he let go now, she would bleed just as she had in his nightmare because he couldn’t warn her in time.

“Okay,” Tex said, and then covered one of his hands with her own. He clung back, but most of his energy had shifted to keeping his breathing from returning to the tight panting of his nightmare.

Tex swung her legs over the side of the bed and Church shifted onto his knees so he could still hold onto her hand when she stood.

“Tex.”

“Come on, Church.” She tugged at his hand, drawing him closer to the edge of the bed. She took a step back and he didn’t know if he could actually support his body weight as he was at the moment, but the alternative was letting go of her. “We’re just going to go turn on the lights.”

Church didn’t know if he managed to nod, and her words couldn’t find space in between the screaming in his head to form coherent meaning, but he followed her anyways. They only needed to take a few steps to be able to switch on the lights, and Tex kept her gaze on Church the entire time.

Church flinched a little in the sudden brightness, before registering the difference between the yellow light of the lightbulb and the orange and red blur of the explosion’s fire. He stared at Tex and she looked right back, blonde hair tangled from sleep but eyes alert.

“Ready?” she asked him, and slowly took off her shirt with the hand Church wasn’t clinging to.

She couldn’t get it off all the way, the fabric sliding down into a bunch and hanging above their hands clasped in each other’s. But it was enough to show Church her bare upper body.

“See?” Tex said. “No blood, no cuts, no burns. I’m okay, Church.”

She took his free hand and placed it on her upper chest, no reaction to the coldness of his touch.

“Still breathing,” she said after he felt the rise and fall of her chest for a few seconds. She moved his hand so his fingers could feel the pulse in her throat. “Still beating.”

Church swallowed as they stood in silence for a few moments, forcing his mind to focus on the sensations of her body as they were in that moment rather than in the land of dreams.

“Tex,” he said, because he hated voicing requests in these moments. Hated how weak they made him seem, how easily he was trapped by something as immaterial as the past.

But she just nodded her head and then turned around so he could see her bare back. He didn’t release her hand, causing his arm to wrap around her stomach as she turned. In the bright light, Church could see the smooth skin of Tex’s back marred only by a couple of old scars and freckles. There were no scrapes, no blistered patches, and no jutting bones.

He ran his fingers across the muscle and down her spine for a few moments, letting the feeling of skin warmed only from body heat push away the sensation of cold skin slick with blood. When Tex turned back around, his breathing had calmed slightly and he felt a little more capable of speaking.

“Okay?” she asked.

“Shit, Tex, I’m sorry, I–” The words tangled in his throat and choked him.

Tex tilted her head a little and then stepped forward to kiss him. She pulled her hand away from his grip, only so she could cradle his face between both of her hands. The kiss lacked any hunger, meant for reassurance more than anything else. He closed his eyes at the press of lips, though it only lasted a few seconds. When Tex stepped back, her hands remained where they were, thumbs brushing across his cheeks in a gesture of comfort. She let his forehead fall onto her shoulder and lowered her hands from his face so she could embrace him. When Church’s limbs began to shake not from the residue fear but exhaustion, she broke the silence.

“Bed,” she ordered, and released him so she could turn off the lights.

Church followed her back to his bed, and she waited so he could clamber onto the side pressed against the wall. Caught between the wall and Tex’s body he felt safe, incapable of falling from the edge of his bed to the unyielding ground below.

Once Church lifted up the covers and shifted onto his side, Tex climbed in beside him. She pulled the sheets over both of them and rolled onto her side so they could tangle their limbs together.

“What are you doing in your ten-thirty class today?” she asked after a few seconds.

“Just a lecture. But I need to go to my eleven-thirty class for a fucking presentation.”

Tex shifted a little, lifting one arm away so she could fumble with his alarm clock. The numbers blinking at them informed them the time was currently 5:37AM, and Church wanted to groan at the realization that he’d only gotten two hours of sleep so far.

“You’re not going to your first class or water polo,” Tex told him, moving the alarm time two hours ahead of its original time. She returned to her earlier position, tucking his head beneath her chin.

“Thanks.”

She hummed in response and then fell quiet. Church listened to the silence punctuated by the steady sound of her breathing for a long time before he finally slipped back into a dreamless sleep.

***

Tucker stumbled into the kitchen in the morning with his eyes still closed. He yawned and rubbed at his face as he pulled out utensils and cereal for himself. It took him a few seconds to realize something was off.

He forced his eyes open wider and glanced over at the coffee maker which remained unusually silent. Normally by the time Tucker dragged himself from bed, coffee already gurgled in the pot. Even when Tucker went to water polo practice and Church didn’t, Church would be up before Tucker with the coffee made and backpack packed for a day at campus.

With one last frown at the machine, Tucker wandered into the living room to knock on his roommate’s door. When he received no answer, Tucker pushed open the door and poked his head in.

“Yo, Church,” he called into the dim light, shitty blinds across the windows barely keeping any light out. “You want me to put some coffee on for you?”

The forms on the bed shifted, and Tex lifted her head. She twisted her body around to meet Tucker’s gaze before pressing her finger to her lips. Tucker glanced at the still form of his roommate before returning his stare to Tex.

 _Nightmares?_ He mouthed, and Tex nodded.

Tucker frowned but knew he shouldn’t be surprised given Church’s tendency to suffer from them during periods of high stress and the signs of them from last week. The end of November through the exam period in December and end of March through exam period in April were always the worst. The first exam period they’d roomed together in second year, Church had woken up Tucker in the middle of the night before Church’s second exam, claiming he couldn’t find his phone and accusing Tucker of stealing it. The phone had been resting on the coffee table in the morning just as it had been the night before, and a week later when they drunkenly stumbled home at three in the morning, Church had mentioned his nightmares and who they involved.

“You want me to put some on for you guys for later?” Tucker whispered, but Tex shook her head.

 _I’ll do it_ , she mouthed.

With one last nod and glance at Church’s sleeping form, Tucker offered her a wave and retreated from the room.

Tex watched Tucker close the door before she rolled back onto her side. Church stayed fast asleep, stirring slightly when Tex began spiking his hair. But he didn’t open his eyes, just pressed closer to her despite the impossibility of such a task given their current position. Tex returned her head to the pillow, but though she hadn’t slept much, she couldn’t sink back into sleep. Instead she listened to Tucker’s footsteps and soft swearing as he moved throughout the apartment and got ready to leave.

When he had left and the house fell quiet, Tex watched the room grow brighter and brighter until the alarm began to blare in her ear.

The shrill sound of the alarm woke Church, and he groaned as he shifted on the bed. Despite getting extra sleep, his head felt like shit and his body felt as gross as it did after a night of hard drinking.

“If you destroy the sun for me, I’ll pay you every fucking day for the rest of my life,” Church muttered, and small bits of relief broke through the general feeling of unpleasantness when he heard Tex laugh in response.

“I know you don’t have enough to pay my fees,” she said, and he cracked open his eyes to glare at her.

“You’re such a gold-digger,” he told her, and she flicked him on the forehead.

“If I was, I wouldn’t be with you.”

“That’s cuz you just haven’t found anyone rich yet.”

“True,” she said. When he scowled, she just pressed her cold foot to his calf, and he bit back a shriek.

“They’ve been under the blankets all night, how the fuck are they still cold?”

Tex shrugged with a grin, pressing her foot even harder. He tried to pull away, but their legs were tangled together and entrapped by the layers of sheets on his bed. Church gave up and when Tex’s grin widened, he shifted forward to kiss her.

It would have been easy, just to stay like that and keep kissing until the chill of last night’s memories receded to an ignorable place inside him. It would have been easy to keep his hands beneath her shirt and hers beneath his instead of going to his class. It would have been easy for Tex to move her attentions further down, pushing off what little clothing separated them and staying in bed like that for the rest of the day.

Church wouldn’t have resisted, if that had been her intentions. But instead Tex pulled away and propped herself up on her elbow before either of them could lose themselves in the touch of the other.

“Pretty sure you said something about a presentation in your class today,” she said, and Church pressed his face into the pillow at the reminder. “Come on.”

Tex pulled at his shoulder until he moved, which didn’t take very long given the dangerous strength she exerted on his limb. He nearly fell out of the bed, one hand in hers as they headed into the empty kitchen. Church put bread in the toaster for both of them while Tex went to work on the coffee machine she always complained about. Tucker would always snap back that not all of them could afford the fancy ass expresso machine Tex had at her apartment.

Once both pieces of toast were buttered, Church took a seat at the table and glared at the coffee that hadn’t finished yet.

“ _Tex_!” He shrieked when she suddenly lowered himself into his lap, tapping away at the Blackberry in her hand. She smirked at him as he braced one hand against the wall and shifted so neither of them would fall back off the chair.

“You’re in my seat.”

“There’s two fucking chairs and you don’t own either of them!”

“My seat,” she just repeated, and then leaned back against his chest.

“I’m going to get toast crumbs in your hair.”

“You do and nobody will ever find your body.”

He poked at her shoulder but she didn’t move, just took a bite of her own toast. Church waited a few more seconds before sweeping her hair over to one side and lifting his toast over the opposite one. He leaned forward to take a bite, careful not to get anything on the bare shoulder he soon rested his chin on.

“It’s probably just because of the shit that just happened at the pool,” Church said a few minutes later, breaking the silence they’d receded into.

He felt Tex still but she didn’t say anything. He didn’t elaborate, knowing she would understand the reference and still not even certain he should have brought it up. It was much harder pushing out the words in the sunlight where they had nowhere to hide if necessary.

“I know it’s fucking dumb though, don’t worry,” he said when Tex still remained quiet. “And you guys reacted to the fire before anyone got hurt. Freak accidents or whatever. S’not like it’s a regular thing.”

“Right,” Tex replied. She shifted so she could dangle one arm over Church’s shoulders. “Just some shitty bad luck.”

Neither of them said anything more on the matter, and Church let the weight of her warm body shut out everything else.

In less than an hour, though, Church needed to leave for school. Tex watched him clean up and scramble around to grab his stuff from the kitchen chair. She left the apartment with him, overnight bag slung over her shoulder as they headed down the stairs of the building. While he headed toward campus, she headed toward her own place. Once Church was out of sight, she pulled out her phone and called Connie.

“Anything?” Tex asked in greeting. After the fire occurred the other day, Connie had said she would stay up late that night to look through as many files as she could.

“Nothing,” Connie replied, frustration clear in her low voice. Tex could hear voices murmuring on the other end, before a door opened and closed, Connie’s voice rising to normal volume with her next sentence. “Well, no, there is some stuff I managed to pull that could help us prove he’s using funds from the pool and the city, and whatever other businesses he has. But other than that, I haven’t found anything. What’s the news on the fire? All the sites I went to online didn’t have much to say.”

“I don’t think there’s a way for us to prove he’s involved,” Tex said, hurrying down the sidewalk in the brisk November air. “I talked to Bitters, but he didn’t actually see the Counselor do anything. He didn’t see anyone do anything, except for those asshole kids some patron asked him to deal with outside the building. He wasn’t inside when the fire alarm got pulled, and he didn’t try to go back inside.”

“None of the patrons saw anything?” Connie asked, and Tex frowned a little.

“None that Carolina talked to.” The two had switched shifts for that day, Tex taking Carolina’s morning shift and Carolina the later one at Carolina’s request. “She was pretty busy dealing with the hysterics and the cops that arrived, though. Other guards didn’t report anything.”

“But it clearly wasn’t an accident,” Connie said.

“Unless papers can now magically set themselves on fire, no.”

“Fuck.”

Tex didn’t say anything in response to Connie’s declaration, though she felt her own impatience and frustration pound through her with each step on the pavement. Somebody across the street whistled at her, and she gave them the middle finger without even sparing a glance.

“We need _something_ ,” Connie said.

“I’ll get more files,” Tex assured her, even though there hadn’t been any chances for her to slip into the Director’s office at the pool and do so since the last time she told Connie she would.

But there was always the Director’s personal laptop, and Church had been grumbling about a possible dinner with her at the Director’s home.

“Even if you get more files, I’m getting less and less time to look through it all.”

“Don’t sacrifice your grades for it,” Tex told her. “That’s just as good as letting him win. I can start looking through some of them too.”

“I think I can sacrifice a few percent,” Connie replied, and Tex heard a similar wry tone to Wash’s in the girl’s voice. “But I know, I know. I’m doing my best. But my best isn’t getting us much.”

“It will,” Tex said as she glanced up at the grey sky above. She felt the lack of sleep finally beginning to push at her shoulders, the memory of Church’s frantic breathing and terrified gaze nipping at her heels. “Just keep looking.”

***

Simmons didn’t know exactly what to blame for the sixth and seventh kisses, but he was positive he could think of something if he needed to.

The eighth one happened on Grif’s bed late at night just as the first one had. Both Donut and Kai were out, but Grif elected to remain at home that Friday night and Simmons chose to join him. Despite the growing tension and snapped out words caused by Simmons’ repeated actions, the two stayed inseparable as they had since first year.

The eighth one felt like the type Grif would be most likely to initiate, slow and lazy. They sat side by side on his bed, and all it took was the turning of Simmons’ head to begin the kiss. All it took was a slight shift for his hand to be resting on Grif’s thigh, Grif’s hand at the small of Simmons’ back. The kiss was just a press of lips with no demand and no rush to do anything beyond kissing.

This time, though, Grif was the first to pull away and he spoke before Simmons could run or feed him excuses.

“What is this, Simmons?” Grif asked, the volume of his voice falling between a whisper and conversational levels.

Simmons felt himself still at the question and he could do nothing but blink at Grif for a long moment. A part of him had known Grif would eventually want to know why Simmons kept acting the way he did, but Simmons had hoped he would be able to stop himself before Grif asked. Or at the very least, Grif’s usual laidback attitude would keep him from asking for a while yet.

“Do you want me to stop?” Simmons finally replied.

He had not been able to stop for his own sake, but he could for Grif’s. If Grif was disgusted by it, if he felt violated by it, if it made him want to end their friendship; Simmons would stop his irresponsible behaviour.

He would do anything, as long as Grif stayed in his life.

“No,” Grif said. A pause. “Are we dating?”

“I told you, I’m not dating till I’m done school.”

Grif stared at him, and Simmons panicked at the expectancy he imagined in his friend’s gaze.

“Friends with benefits?” Simmons suggested, even though they had done nothing beyond kissing and neither of them had ever expressed an interest in such a relationship before.

“So it would be fine if I made out or dated someone else?”

Simmons stiffened before he could catch himself, forcing his shoulders to relax a second later but unable to control whatever jealousy stole over his face. “I thought so.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say, Grif?”

Grif shrugged.

“I guess what it is you actually want.”

Simmons opened his mouth, but no words fell out. Words were only ever used as weapons in his household, his mom’s quiet declarations of love never strong enough to offset his dad’s disapproval. What Grif asked for here were not words of hurt but words of sincere affection, and Simmons couldn’t even form them coherently in his own mind without panic squeezing his windpipe shut.

“This,” Simmons finally managed to get out.

Grif studied him and Simmons wanted to offer more, but the frantic beating of his heart stole all of his attention.

“So, couple stuff,” Grif finally said. “As if we were dating.”

All Simmons could do was jerk his head a fraction in some semblance of a nod.

“Alright,” Grif said, and Simmons’ eyes widened. Grif shifted on the bed, but only so he could press his hand even firmer against Simmons’ back. “So, Kai and–”

“Don’t tell them.” Grif stared, but these were words that poured forth on an instinct Simmons couldn’t stop. “Don’t tell any of them.”

“They’re not your dad, Simmons.”

“He’ll find out if too many people know.”

Grif sighed, but didn’t push the matter. Instead, he leaned back against his pillows and moved his arm so it wrapped all the way around Simmons’ side. Simmons joined him after a second of hesitation, heart still beating faster than normal even as he tucked himself against Grif’s side. Time slowly ticked by, neither one of them saying anything more or making an attempt to do anything but take comfort in the other’s presence.

“You know you could always move in here,” Grif said, gazing up at the ceiling as Simmons craned his head a little to study his face. He couldn’t find any hint of mockery or deceit in Grif’s expression.

“With what money?” Simmons asked.

“Work and OSAP just like the rest of us. Hell, you’re such a nerd, you’d win a scholarship no problem.”

“No.”

Grif turned to look at him, but Simmons couldn’t meet his stare. Simmons had mentioned scholarships to his dad only once, and the attempt had been met with a derisive snort and comments about Simmons’ complete inability to win one with his permanent lack of intelligence and substandard grades.

“Why–”

“It wouldn’t work, Grif,” Simmons cut him off before he could even begin an argument. He could hear his dad’s voice echoing in his head, and continuing to pursue the idea of scholarships would only make the voice stronger. “Besides, I don’t need one. I’m competent enough to get through this on my own.”

“I’m not trying to say you’re incompetent or whatever, Simmons,” Grif said. “It’s not about that. It’s about getting out of that hellhole your dad’s made and living your own god damn life.”

“I’ve already made it this fucking far, Grif, I can survive there until I’m done school.”

Quiet fell for a moment, and then Grif said softly,

“But you shouldn’t have to.”

Simmons had no response to that, but Grif didn’t seem to expect one. He fell quiet again, and neither one of them attempted to put any distance between each other until Grif moved to get his laptop for them to use.


	26. Chapter 26

Omega arrived on the fourth Saturday with a significantly lighter mood than the week before, though he remained just as abrasive in his greeting as he normally did.

“Happy birthday, kiddo,” Tex just offered in reply, and he went still.

She waited for a snapped back reply or shrug, but he only blinked at her. When another few seconds passed in silence, she waved him toward the pool. He went without a word, though he started talking again as soon as she told him to start with some laps. Even his complaints lacked their usual bite, and the more time passed, the more she saw glee in his eyes and growing excitement lining his face.

The closer their lesson grew to an end, the more impatient Omega became. His demeanour brightened even more when she allowed him to do dives at the very end, but he still continued to glance at the clock every few seconds.

When the lesson finally came to an end, Omega didn’t interject once, knowing baiting her would simply consume more of their time.

“Now, if you got all that, wait here,” Tex finished, and Omega stared at her.

“Why–” Omega began, but Tex disappeared into the guardroom before he could get another word out.

She headed straight for the locker she’d tossed her bag in and grabbed the plastic bag inside. Without sparing the room a glance, she headed back outside where Omega waited for her. He glanced down at the bag she offered him, then back up at her face. When she didn’t say a word, just stood there with the proffered item, he took the bag.

Tex didn’t say a word as he pulled out the first item, folds of fabric falling toward the floor when he held it up to study. When he finally lowered the T-shirt so Tex could see his expression, his mouth hung open and he kept looking between Tex and the shirt.

“Don’t throw away the bag yet,” she told him, and he wordlessly reached into the bag to pull out the last item. She took the shirt from him before he dropped it while he examined the compact wallet in his hands.

Red wings the same shape as those on Daryl Dixon’s leather coat were etched into the black fabric on one side of the wallet, and a mangled skull on the other. Scrawled across the simple dark t-shirt were the words _walking dead survivor_ , with a skull and two guns forming crossbones beneath the skull.

Tex hadn’t known if Omega would want something he could shove in everyone’s face when the item derived from a story, and so she’d bought the wallet in case the kid wanted something easier to conceal.

“What the fuck?” Omega said, but she couldn’t detect a single trace of venom in his tone. He simply stared at her with wide eyes, unable to hide the bewilderment in them.

“It’s your birthday,” Tex explained.

Technically, Tex was pretty sure this wasn’t something lifeguards were supposed to do. But if the Director was playing outside the rules with the intent to harm, then Tex figured she could move outside the boundaries with the desire to help.

Tex didn’t elaborate on the explanation she gave Omega, and Omega went back to staring at the two gifts as if they were immaterial miracles that would disappear the moment he turned away from them.

When she handed him the shirt again, he gripped it in one hand and clutched the wallet in the other. She offered him half a smile before asking,

“You doing anything cool with the other kids today?”

“Kimball’s taking us to an aquarium out of town!” He told her so quickly, she wondered if he had been waiting all lesson for a chance to bring up the topic without sounding ecstatic about it. “They were keeping it a secret or something cuz they thought a surprise would be cool.”

“Was it a surprise?”

“Yeah, but Epsilon got mad at Eta cuz she told me before Kimball could this morning.” Omega rolled his eyes. “She hates surprises so she got tired of waiting, and then she got all pissy at Epsilon for yelling at her about it.”

Tex raised an eyebrow at him and glanced over at where the other children sat on the benches.

“They gonna be okay to be with in a long car ride?”

Omega shrugged.

“Epsilon will probably take a bunch of dumb pictures and make her happy. Iota wanted a bunch of the jellyfish. And Kimball promised us pizza.”

“Sounds like a pretty cool day,” Tex said, and he offered her a genuine grin.

“They’ve got a bunch of sharks and skeletons of these super old predators that could swallow whales whole!” Omega told her. “Sigma’s probably gonna get nightmares about them cuz he has an ‘overactive imagination’ or whatever, and Theta will probably just wanna find all the dumb fish from _Finding Nemo_ , but it’s still gonna be really cool.”

“Good,” Tex said, and spared a look at the clock. “You’d better get going then. And get that stuff in your bag.”

He hesitated, and the expression on his face was so unguarded, she could taste the gratitude tangling his words on his tongue.

“Have a fun day, kiddo,” she said, and offered him one last wave before heading back into the guardroom for a quick break.

She watched Omega stand there for a few seconds longer before returning to the gaggle of younger children all speaking with their babysitters. Maine’s student had his face shoved in a book, but even Wyoming’s private student appeared to be speaking with the other children.

Fifteen minutes later, Tex stood back on the pool deck as she waited for York to finish taking attendance and get his class into the pool. Just as he had since she first started helping with the class, Junior pressed against her side the moment he spotted her. When they sat on the deck, he sat right beside her, and he walked beside her when they headed down the ramp into the pool. If York asked them to jump in to start, Junior would always try to position himself so Tex would be the one he landed in front of.

The child’s constant attachment to Tex continued to amuse York, and she knew the other lifeguards were taken aback by it. Omega, she knew, was a bit easier for them to understand given his surly attitude and appreciation of physical strength. Junior was more similar to Theta in his temperament, and Tex didn’t soften herself for that.

York moved them into the pool and got them started with a song. They worked on their floats after, and Junior volunteered first to work with Tex. She reminded him he had done it by himself last week and told him to do the same thing. She told him she would stand in front of him in case he sank, and he looked up at her while his hands bunched in the bottom of his swim trucks.

Tex just stood there waiting, body held confidently in a way Junior could see. With one last look at Tex, Junior took a deep breath and flung himself into a star position. Tex counted to five loud enough for him to hear under water, and then he flailed back into a standing position. He bounced back to his spot when Tex told him he did it right, and she glanced up to where Tucker sat grinning at them on the benches.

Tucker hadn’t thought Junior would like her. Neither had Church or Tex herself. But Junior had only been three when Tex first met him, falling in love easily with anyone who offered him a shred of positive attention. Tex might not have offered him gentle words or soft lullabies or big hugs, but she kept him occupied when she was left alone with him, and she picked him up when he needed to be carried. She showed him how to arm wrestle, how to do a cartwheel,and helped him prank Tucker and Church whenever he wanted.

Junior didn’t need much more than that to fall in love with any of Tucker’s friends.

Another ten minutes passed and Tex switched with Wash. When she returned to the guardroom, there were several messages waiting for her on her Blackberry from Sheila, Kai, and Church.

Both Kai and Sheila wanted to confirm they were still going to the gym after Tex’s work shift that day, and Tex confirmed they were. Since the first time, the three went twice a week to the gym together, Kai’s enthusiasm never dimming the slightest fraction. She showed up with a grin and an endless supply of stories each night.

Tex found the annoyance she originally felt for the girl fading away with each passing day, replaced without warning with an odd protectiveness she imagined siblings felt for each other.

 _Awesome!! :DDDD_ , Kai texted her back a minute later, followed by Sheila’s reply of,

_I look forward to getting away from the campus for a couple hours._

Tex turned her attention to the multiple messages from Church, clicking open the thread with a frown and scrolling to the first one from ten minutes ago.

_Right so._

_Director called._

_Well has been calling._

_Fucking wouldn’t shut up about it._

_He officially wants you to come over for dinner again sometime._

_Like with all of us. Him, Carolina, you, and me. Annual attempt to seem like we’re a normal family that does that shit even tho parents will of course be out of the country._

_So he wants to know some days you’re free._

Tex read each text, and then started from the beginning again. She could picture the scowl on Church’s face as he wrote each text, mashing at the touch-screen keyboard and sending each one without a second’s pause between. If he didn’t have autocorrect, she imagined his messages would be a mess of typos, stemming from the anxiety that pushed out his words as fast as he could before they burned up his insides.

She could picture him flinging away his phone in frustration after sending the last text, and then grabbing it a few seconds later with an angry mutter in case she responded right away. She wondered if he had sent messages to Carolina as well, either complaining about her dad’s strange need for an awkward dinner, or warning his cousin about her dad’s latest plans. Tex didn’t think either one would be met with much happiness.

Tex glanced out at the pool deck, but saw no signs of any issues. She returned her attention back to her phone and pulled up her calendar app to check the next few weeks.

 _November 23 rd, _she texted back, trying to balance her promise to Connie about getting more files with her due dates for school and work. _December 3 rd, December 6th, and December 9th are the earliest ones._

Church replied a few minutes later that he would let his uncle know, and that was it. Tex didn’t try messaging him anything else, and she couldn’t guess from the lack of response if he would continue to wallow in his bad mood even past the time she spent at the gym. If Tucker and Junior distracted him, or if he had schoolwork to lose himself in, it might not be as bad. But when he was already stressed and losing sleep, Tex could predict she would be greeted with a fed-up Tucker and snappish Church when she went to their apartment for that night.

Tex bit back any desires to sigh, and shoved her Blackberry back into her bag. She looked back up at the pool deck and glanced at Omega and the other children once more. The boy was showing Epsilon the shirt now that the other child had finished his lesson and dried off. Theta kept tugging at the shirt to see it again, and Carolina’s privates kept tugging at Epsilon’s elbows with a question on their lips. Kimball and the other babysitters watched all of it with unconcealed affection.

“Everything good, Tex?” Wash asked when he came into the guardroom for his break, and Tex returned her gaze back to the guardroom. 

“Yeah,” she replied, and took a seat at the computer. “All good.”

***

Sunday afternoon found most of the lifeguards trudging to the pool and waiting in the guardroom for their shift to start. Those who got there early enough heard South talk with her twin over the phone as she persuaded him to bring her food and coffee from Timmies since she’d forgotten to bring her own food and had a headache. They also heard the complete lack of venom in the teasing and swearing, something they hadn’t heard from either twin when speaking with the other in a few weeks. When North arrived, South took the sandwich and coffee he’d got for her and they insulted each other over the other’s poor taste, but neither twin looked ready to murder the other.

North took his seat without a single lecture or arrogant scolding escaping his lips, even if both twins rolled their eyes at each other.

On the other side of town, Tucker was once again getting ready to go to the pool with Junior for the afternoon recreational swim. Kai came with them, giving Junior a piggyback the whole way and putting an extra bounce in her step to make Junior giggle. Tucker hadn’t bothered to ask Church to come, for his roommate looked ready to murder anyone who even breathed in the same room as him that morning, despite the fact that Tex stayed over the night before.

They paid at the front desk of the pool and headed to the change rooms to put their stuff away. The second they were on the pool deck, Junior began tugging at Tucker and Kai’s hands with his gaze locked on the giant, yellow mats floating in the shallow end.

They all climbed in together, Junior splashing toward the closest toys while Tucker was careful to stay within arms’ reach. For a long while, nothing out of the ordinary happened. Tucker and Kai tossed Junior through the air between them, helped him jump in and out of the pool, let him pour water on them from buckets, and pretended to swim after him as sharks. They helped him crawl up onto the floating mats and pushed him around on the objects while other patrons swam around them and the lifeguards roamed the deck. Tucker caught a glimpse of Wash a few times, and he always offered them a smile when the three swimmers met his gaze.

Halfway through the recreational swim, Junior stood in the shallow end, gesturing as he spoke to a listening Kai and Tucker. The yellow mat they’d previously been playing with slipped from his grip and slowly drifted away from them.

A sudden wave of water drew Junior’s attention, and Tucker followed his son’s gaze. A young boy had leapt onto the yellow mat Junior had previously used at the sight of its lack of occupancy. The boy offered Junior a smile when he caught the child’s gaze, brown curls falling into his cheerful eyes.

Before Tucker or Kai could react, Junior lunged toward the mat and grabbed it with both of his hands.

“That’s mine,” he told the new boy, and Tucker bit back a sigh.

“Junior,” he began, stepping closer to him. “Remember what I’ve told you? The toys at the pool belong to everyone.”

Junior just scowled at him and shook his head.

“I was playing with it!” He turned back to other boy with narrowed eyes and tugged at it. “Give it back.”

“You stopped playing with it, Junior,” Tucker said, keeping his voice level despite the petulance in Junior’s tone. “Which means he can play with it if he wants.”

“He can have it back if he wants,” the other boy piped up, already beginning to lower his pale body off the mat. “I don’t mind.”

“No,” Tucker told him, and the kid paused with his body half on the mat. “It’s important he learns how to share.”

Tucker turned his gaze back to his son whose scowl was slowly melting into a pout at the sight of the stern set of Tucker’s facial expression.

“But I was playing with it first!” Junior whined. Kai offered Tucker an encouraging look but otherwise remained quiet, for Tucker had told her before he needed to be the one to discipline Junior when the time came.

“And then you stopped,” Tucker reminded him. “And just because you were playing with it doesn’t mean you can’t share it with–”

Tucker glanced at the other boy and he quickly said,

“I’m Theta.”

“With Theta here.”

Tucker leaned down so he was eye level with the angry Junior. “I told you, Junior–either we share and play nicely, or we go home.”

Junior looked like he wanted to cross his arms and huff, but couldn’t do it without letting go of the mat. Instead, he glared down at the water.

The arrival of more children interrupted whatever reply Junior wanted to give. The three new children all flocked to Theta right away; two similar looking girls with yellow and blue bathing skorts, and one other child with green goggles on his skinny face.

“Hi!” One of the girls said to Junior and Tucker the second she arrived on scene. She looked between them without a hint of hesitation in her expression. “I’m Iota! Are you playing with Theta?”

“He wants to use the mat,” Theta told them, and the boy with the green goggles studied the mat before turning his gaze to the other children.

“We should all be able to fit,” the boy said, and Iota grinned at that. Tucker offered them a smile while Junior remained frowning with his hands clutching at the sides of the mat. “Oh, I’m Delta.”

“Eta,” the other girl introduced herself.

“I’m Tucker,” Tucker said. When he glanced up briefly, he saw Andersmith and Jensen headed toward them, confirming his guess that these the children were those in Kimball’s care. He spotted Kimball a few seconds later standing by the side of the middle tank while speaking with Epsilon and another boy in the water. “This is Kai and Junior.”

Kai offered them a cheerful greeting and Junior just scowled more, though now Tucker could see sparks of hesitation in his eyes as the new children began to trigger his usual shyness. Everyone except Iota repeated a greeting while the girl bounced toward them. Before Tucker could even consider how to keep Junior’s shyness away and help him have fun with the other children, Iota splashed to a stop right in front of Junior.

“I’ll help!” the girl declared, and lifted Junior up onto the mat before he could blink.

Junior landed on his hands and knees, and Iota kept a hand on his forearm until he seemed off-balance. Tucker felt his mouth part a little in surprise and the other babysitters arrived just in time to witness the boost Iota gave to Junior.

“Is everything okay over here?” Andersmith asked Tucker, and Jensen stared at each of the children in turn.

“Is everyone being nice to Junior and each other?” she asked, and the others all chorused positive answers which Tucker and Kai supported.

“We’re playing on the mat with him,” Iota told them, and then started to hoist herself onto the yellow surface.

Delta quickly ordered Eta to help him hold the side while Iota got on and Theta adjusted his positon. Tucker moved closer when Junior wobbled a little on the unsteady surface, but he didn’t start shouting or complaining despite the turn in events. The frown remained on his face, a small crease in his tiny forehead while the others all laughed around him. He glanced up at Theta who offered the boy a grin, and then back at Tucker who gave him a big thumbs-up.

Once all the children were on, giggling as the mat rocked beneath them, Eta called for Delta to make waves like they were in the ocean. The older boy studied the mat and then began push down on the surface so it rocked from side to side. The children shrieked at the motion, but soon enough, all the rocking caused them to tumble off into the water.

Tucker grabbed Junior from underwater and then looked up as all the other kids spluttered to the surface under the babysitters’ watch. They were all laughing while Junior blinked in surprise, coughing out whatever water he swallowed.

“You’re okay,” Tucker told him before he could consider the desire for tears. Tucker plopped him back on the mat and then grabbed at the other children’s attention. “Hey, guys, how about we use the mat to go on an adventure instead of dunking everyone?”

The other kids perked up from where they were attempting to scramble back onto the mat, and Tucker saw Delta glance at Junior thoughtfully.

“Yeah!” Junior said, his body straightening and some of the sulk leaving his face at the idea of such a game. He turned to the other children, sudden friendliness fueled by the ideas already bursting in his imagination. “We can go to the moon!”

“The moon?” Iota repeated, and Theta pushed himself back onto the mat fully while Delta kept it balanced for him.

“Yeah, over there.” Junior pointed toward the far side of shallow end where all the flutter boards were lined on a shelf on the wall. “It’s really far an’ we gotta get fuel over there.”

He pointed to the small plastic slide resting on the deck half way between them and the wall, a small bucket of toys placed beside it.

“Why are we going to the moon?” Eta asked, and Junior scrunched up his face.

“To save it from the aliens stealing it!” he declared a second later.

“Why are the aliens trying to steal it?”

“Well, it does affect the climate and oceans,” Delta said, voice rising in volume as if he was a teacher imparting information that would be on the class’ next test.

All of Kimball’s children turned their gazes to him, and Tucker couldn’t find a trace of skepticism in their faces as they absorbed Delta’s words. “The climate would be more extreme, and the Earth would tilt a lot more when it rotates.”

“Wouldn’t the sun be better to steal?” Eta said. She looked to Junior, but only genuine curiosity could be heard in her voice rather than any intents to sabotage Junior’s ideas. “It’s more important.”

“It’s too hot for them to steal! And really big.”

“How are they stealing the moon?”

“They have supersonic guns,” Theta told her, eagerly leaning closer to Junior and offering him an excited grin. “And super powerful spaceships that can steal whole planets!”

When Eta looked like she wanted to say more, Theta added, “They’re aliens, Eta. Aliens always have better stuff than us.”

“That’s dumb,” Eta declared, but she hopped onto the mat. “I’m steering.”

The children all began to argue about which position they wanted until everyone but Eta and Delta were kicking furiously to make the mat move forward. Tucker and the babysitters walked beside them, and Tucker watched any earlier negative feelings toward Kimball’s children fade from Junior’s expression.

Tucker, Kai, and the other two supervised the children all playing together for half an hour before Tucker needed to use the washroom. Kai had happily moved to chatter with her friend while they kept the children from fighting or drowning, Andersmith bearing Theta and Iota’s weight with a genuine smile as they leapt on his back. The three adults all reassured Tucker they would watch Junior carefully, and Tucker assured Junior he would be back in a few minutes before he hopped out of the pool.

Tucker headed toward the hallway where the boiler room and unisex washrooms were, offering half a wave to York when the man offered a smile as he roved the deck. When Tucker ducked out into the hallway, the echoing voices from the pool deck disappeared only to be replaced with a familiar one.

“I know,” Wash was saying into his cellphone, and Tucker recognized the sound of stress straining his voice within seconds. Wash had his back turned to Tucker, and with his bladder demanding Tucker’s immediate attention, Tucker quietly slipped into the bathroom first.

When he returned to the hall, Wash had turned toward the washroom and he was saying goodbye to the person on the other end. Wash looked up at him, and Tucker saw the way he tried to pull the worst of his stress off his face, but Tucker still saw it in the exhaustion dimming his eyes and in the hard lines of his shoulders.

“Everything okay?” Tucker asked. “That didn’t exactly sound like a winning the lottery call.”

Wash snorted and Tucker felt a spark of pride at managing to trigger some amusement to chase away Wash’s stress.

“Definitely wasn’t that kind of call,” Wash agreed, and then went quiet for a moment.

His fingers played with the edges of his phone but Tucker didn’t move from his spot. He kept his gaze on Wash, reminding himself that Junior was having fun with the other children. Kai could keep him safe until Tucker managed to get one stubborn lifeguard to trust Tucker with his stress as he had been starting to more and more.

“My mom called,” Wash finally said with a sigh. “My grandpa’s in the hospital.”

Tucker opened his mouth, and Wash hastily held up his hands. “He’s okay, no permanent damage. He fell and there was a bit of a scare but he should be okay. My dad’s pretty freaked out though and so is my grandpa. I was going to go down and see them soon anyways, so my mom wanted to know if I could come down tomorrow for a visit instead. She thinks it would make both of them feel better and I could leave right after work. Even earlier if Carolina is okay with it.”

“You worried about missing classes?” Tucker guessed.

“No, actually, that will be okay tomorrow. It’s just leaving in such a rush–if I left now I could avoid any rush hour or people returning to the city for the week, which I really don’t want to deal with. But I was just thinking about the cats, and I remembered I haven’t fed them yet and Cynthia is supposed to go see the vet tomorrow–”

“I’ll do it,” Tucker blurted out before he could even consider the offer or his own schedule.

But Wash had begun speaking faster, in a way that Tucker now knew happened when Wash felt overwhelmed but was still trying to keep himself under control. His whole body had gone tighter too, in a way that made Tucker worried he would defy physics and snap in two from all the emotions building up inside him.

Wash stared at him.

“What?”

“I can feed the cats and take them to the vet,” Tucker said. He drew himself up straighter and injected as much confidence as possible into his voice. “I’ve seen where you keep all the stuff and I can figure out my way to the vet with Google Maps. You’d just have to lend me a key and let me know what I’m doing at the vet.”

“Tucker,” Wash began, and then shook his head. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Why not? It’s just feeding the cats and taking one for a little in-town trip. It’s not like you’re asking me to clean the litter box.”

“Have you ever taken an animal to the vet before?” Wash asked.

“Uh, no, but I’m sure you have a super nice carrier for them all and you don’t take them to one that’s incompetent. If she needs some company after, I can stick around.”

“You have school and work,” Wash pointed out, and Tucker shrugged.

“Not all day. Sides, Junior’s gonna think it’s Christmas if we get to see them twice in one week. Exercise, food, and petting time all from one person right there.”

Wash seemed to be fighting back a smile at that comment, and Tucker took a step closer as he pressed his point. “C’mon, Wash, let someone else be the mature, responsible one for once.”

Wash glanced down at the silent phone in his hand and then back up at Tucker.

“Alright,” Wash said, and Tucker tried to ignore how satisfied he felt knowing Wash was hesitating less and less when it came to accepting help from Tucker. “I’ll text you the address and all the information. How long are you and Junior staying at the pool?”

“Dude, if you wanna leave now, then you can give me the key and go. I can have it back for you whenever you get back in town. Monday night, probably?”

“I might just leave Tuesday morning and come right to the pool.”

Tucker shook his head at Wash.

“Sorry, I forgot for a moment you don’t sleep.”

Wash gave him a wry smile, but motioned toward the door that led from the hall to the guardroom. Tucker followed him to it and then waited in the doorway while Wash rummaged through his bag to find his key. Tucker shot a quick glance to the shallow end where Junior appeared content with the company Tucker had left him with.

Tucker stepped into the guardroom when Wash waved him in, and all the other guards just offered familiar greetings. They returned to their earlier activities when Wash dropped his key into Tucker’s hand.

“Don’t worry, Wash, I’ll make sure they’re all fed their normal healthy meals,” Tucker assured him, and Tucker watched most of the remaining anxiety fade from Wash’s exterior.

“Make sure you eat something healthy yourself, Tucker,” he replied. “You can’t have pizza three days in a row.”

“Hey, I ate healthy when Junior and I were at your place yesterday.

“One meal in three days doesn’t count.”

Tucker rolled his eyes, but gripped the key a little harder and made to step toward the door. Wash’s voice stopped him a second later.

“Are you still good to cook Tuesday after my classes?” Wash asked, and Tucker thought he saw North’s fingers momentarily still on the buttons of his DS out of the corner of his eye.

“If you are,” Tucker told him. “I guess I’ll give you back the key then?”

Wash nodded and offered Tucker a smile.

“At six,” he told Tucker. “And thank you, Tucker.”

“No problem, dude,” Tucker said, waving his hand as if he could wave away the feelings of contentment Wash’s gratitude triggered.

With one last glance at Wash, Tucker headed back toward Junior and the smiles Tucker could accept without choking on the unvoiced sentiments they triggered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and thank you so much for all of your comments! I appreciate every single one of them.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your parents–you told them about me?”

Tucker waited outside of Wash’s apartment the following Tuesday for Wash to arrive. Wash hadn’t texted much when he’d been away, except for to ask if everything was alright on Tucker’s end and to reassure Tucker everything was fine where he was. Just as Tucker told Wash, Junior had been ecstatic to get to see the cats again, none of his excitement disappearing even as the novelty of situation faded.  

“Tucker.”

Tucker looked up at the sound of Wash calling his name, nearly dropping the phone he’d been tossing through the air in boredom. Wash’s hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, hood up against the chilly, November air. The moment Tucker met his gaze, Wash offered him a tired smile.

“Dude, you look like you’d rather pass out than cook,” Tucker said once Wash reached him and opened the doors to the duplex. Tucker picked up the grocery bags he’d brought with him and followed Wash inside.

“I’m fine,” Wash assured him as they entered his unit.

Mimi met them in the kitchen, pressing herself against Wash’s leg while Tucker placed the bags on the counter and Wash turned on the lights. Wash knelt down to pet Mimi’s head and Tucker leaned against the counter.

“Fine, but if you pass out, Mimi and I are kicking your ass to bed,” Tucker said, and Wash straightened after one last meow from Mimi.

She looked up at Tucker with the expectant expression only a cat could manage, and Tucker sighed before offering her a few pets.  

“Mimi will?” Wash asked, and Tucker glanced up at the amusement coating Wash’s voice.

“She’ll hiss, I’ll move you.”

Tucker returned to his earlier upright position and began to help Wash take the ingredients out of the bags.

“How was getting them to the vet?” Wash asked as they worked.

“Pretty chill. I think Cynthia has a second sense for that carrier now cuz she was actually pretty friendly when I was just trying to keep her near me, but as soon as I started looking for that carrier, she hid under your bed.”

“That…sounds like her,” Wash admitted. “You got her in okay after?”

“Yeah, no problems, Wash,” Tucker said.

He decided it was best not to mention the several times Cynthia tried to scratch him and how long it took to coax her out from under the bed, let alone how long it took to get her into the carrier itself. All the other cats had come out from their various activities and hiding spots to watch the drama unfold. None of them offered help to either Cynthia or Tucker, and Tucker swore half of Cynthia’s angry noises were directed at her fellow cats for not doing anything.

Tucker had spent five minutes after getting Cynthia into the carrier complaining at the fellow cats for not helping him. The only response he received was Furbomb coming over and collapsing in Tucker’s lap for a nap.

Wash nodded, and started getting out the pans and pots Tucker told him to.

“Was everything good on your end?” Tucker asked.

“Yeah, my grandpa’s going to be fine. And my parents say they hope you’re doing well.”

Silence descended for a few seconds and Tucker found himself incapable of doing anything but blinking at Wash. Half a minute ticked by before Wash turned around to frown at the frozen Tucker.

“Tucker?” Wash asked, and Tucker felt words scratch at his throat.

“Your parents–you told them about me?” Tucker finally managed to say and Wash raised his eyebrows at him.

“Yes?”

“We’re not even dating,” Tucker protested before he could consider either the words themselves or the tone they slipped out in. Wash stared at him but his frown remained the same, no other form of an upset expression crossing his face.

“I know that,” Wash said, and Tucker couldn’t hear anything beyond the neutrality of Wash’s tone. “But we’re friends, and I tell my parents about those.”

Tucker opened his mouth but no other words came out. Wash waited, but Tucker couldn’t explain why the thought had panic spinning through him without also bringing up the more than platonic emotions Tucker was actively trying to ignore. “And you were the one taking care of my cats, Tucker–of course they’d want to know who you were.”

When Tucker still remained silent as he attempted to come up with a way to shrug away the whole thing without sounding forced or triggering any more suspicion in Wash, Wash added, “Don’t some of the Reds and Blues have parents who know about the rest of you?”

Given the sheer amount of parental issues on the Red team alone, Tucker wanted to simply answer in the negative and be done with the discussion he had brought up before he embarrassed himself any further. Grif’s parents were gone, Simmons’ dad was an asshole, Tucker had no idea if Donut still spoke with parents, and Tucker was pretty sure Sarge’s were dead. Lopez probably only told his parents about them to complain.

On the Blue team, though, Tucker could imagine Caboose telling his parents as many incorrect stories about their lives as possible. Tucker knew Church barely spoke to his biological parents, but Tucker had overheard him once tell them who he was rooming with. The Director probably knew about him, and despite the little amount Tucker got to speak to his mom, she did know about Church.

Tucker could feel his face growing hotter and hotter as Wash just waited, and Tucker spotted bits of concern beginning to show in Wash’s eyes.

“I just don’t have the best track record with other peoples’ parents,” Tucker finally muttered.

He immediately felt the urge to bang his head against the counter for thinking of Junior’s mom’s parents as he said it when he was supposed to be trying to move away from any romantic connotations.

Wash didn’t seem to find the statement strange, though, sympathy erasing the puzzled frown on his face.

“Well, the main things they know about you are that you took care of my cats and are on water polo team. Oh, and that you’re teaching me how to cook.” Wash offered him a smile. “I’d say those are all pretty good things to be known for.”

Tucker crossed his arms and frowned at Wash.

“What about when we first met?” Tucker pressed. “You’re telling me you didn’t tell them how much of an asshole you thought I was?”

Wash blushed.

“I may have complained once or twice about some annoying people at the pool,” Wash admitted.

“How diplomatic,” Tucker replied, imagining the choice words Wash might have said to his parents over the phone when they asked him why he sounded so frustrated. Wash’s blush deepened as if he knew what Tucker was thinking.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Wash said, stubbornness turning his voice firm. “We moved past that and my parents know that.”

He offered Tucker a smile. “Now, are you going to teach me to cook or what?”

Tucker shoved at his shoulder but turned his attention to the food and cooking utensils spread across the counter in front of them.

Tucker had decided to start with risotto, a fairly simple rice dish in his opinion. It would get Wash working with a stock and a variety of spices for the flavour. Plus, rice dishes were always good for leftovers, something anyone with a busy schedule needed.

Barring the fact that the ingredients didn’t involve the ridiculous number of vegetables Wash seemed to love, Wash seemed content with the dish idea. He listened to Tucker’s instructions without hesitation, though he did catch the one or two lines Tucker threw in to test just how gullible Wash would be in such a scenario. Each one was met with an unimpressed look and a dry tone that Tucker simply grinned at before correcting himself.

The process wasn’t supposed to be a messy one, yet the counter ended up covered in bits of food and Wash nearly knocked over the wine at one point. Spots of wine dotted both of their faces after they flicked droplets of it at each other; Wash having started it in revenge for one of Tucker’s comments, and Tucker simply repeating the action.

Every cat wandered into the kitchen at some point during the cooking process. Furbomb looked unimpressed that the task involved so much moving and no napping. Mimi seemed curious, attempting to leap up onto the counter at one point to examine the process before being shooed away by both Wash and Tucker. She stalked away only to return a moment later with Cynthia. Cynthia hovered in the doorway for a good ten minutes before approaching, only moving into the room to rub her face against Wash’s leg and then dart away. Tucker even spotted Dennis at one point, though the older cat didn’t move away from the doorway. He just watched them, slow gaze swinging back and forth between Tucker’s grin and the growing confidence on Wash’s face.

Tucker tried his best to focus on the food itself rather than Wash or any feelings of intimacy the scene stirred. He had taught Church how to make certain dishes before and that had never created the soft atmosphere Tucker felt in that moment. With the amount of banter and bits of food being thrown at each other, Tucker should have found the whole thing chaotic, not felt fondness swirling in his chest and colouring his grin.

The cramped size of the kitchen and tight jeans Wash wore weren’t doing anything to help Tucker’s situation either, but he was determined not to make any more comments that strayed away from friendship territory after the earlier blunder about Wash’s parents. For his part, Wash didn’t act any different than normal. He offered the same teasing back and forth as always, wry comments and eye rolls running through their conversations. He didn’t initiate anymore physical contact than usual, hands brushing sometimes when they exchanged utensils or ingredients, but nothing more occurring.

Despite the anxiety triggered by Tucker's growing inability to control his own emotions, he enjoyed himself and nothing disastrous happened to the food. And everything was worth it to see the surprised pleasure on Wash’s face when he took his first bite of the dish. 

“It doesn’t taste burnt,” Wash said, and Tucker rolled his eyes.

They sat at the small wooden table Wash placed in his living room near the front entrance of his unit, sturdy folding chairs around it. There were enough for Junior whenever he accompanied Tucker on weekends, but on those days they ate their meals on the couch more often than not.

“Really, Wash? That’s all you have to say about the thing we just sweated over for hours?”

“It wasn’t even close to an hour,” Wash pointed out, and Tucker shoved a forkful of the rice into his mouth.

He almost choked due to the heat of the food, but he gulped it down and then grabbed his water. Wash had insisted they have some of the wine too since Tucker had bought it for the cooking and Wash shouldn’t keep all of it. He took a sip of that once the burning sensation faded from his mouth.

“Even the _cats_ were impressed,” Tucker said, and Wash laughed.

“Do you think it’s good?”

“I’d give it a solid B. Still have a lot to do before you’re a master like me–”

“Of course,” Wash said, slight smile tugging at his lips while Tucker continued.

“But a solid job for your first time. And if neither of us wakes up with food poisoning in the morning, then we’re all clear.”

Wash nearly spit out the food he’d just put in his mouth, and he swallowed it down with a disbelieving look at Tucker. He shrugged. “It’s happened before with Church.”

“How the two of you have survived this long being roommates is a mystery to me,” Wash said with a shake of his head. “Even more mysterious is how the apartment has survived.”

“Says the guy who has pictures of himself eating mud with a human bear.”

Wash flushed a little at that before arguing,

“We didn’t _eat_ the mud.”

“Maybe that works with everyone else, but I have a five year old son. You can’t lie to me about that kinda shit.”

Wash just shook his head at Tucker, and Tucker leaned back in his chair a little.

“That reminds me,” Tucker said, mind stuck on his previous statements as he frowned at Wash. “How exactly are you and Maine childhood friends if you’re parents’ place is out of town? They move there in university?”

“We lived in this city until I started high school,” Wash explained. “But even after we moved, my parents kept in contact with Maine’s family and Maine and I still talked. So when I came here for university, it was like I never left.”

“Lucky.” They continued eating, both chewing in silence for a moment to savour the food. Tucker broke the quiet first, though Wash didn’t appear bothered by the interruption. “Do you go home for all the holidays?”

Wash nodded.

“Most of them, especially bigger ones like Christmas.” The words weren’t surprising to Tucker. “What about you? What do you and Junior do?”

“Well the Reds and Blues always have some kinda Christmas get-together before the actual day. Junior fucking loves it, gets hyped up about it for weeks beforehand. I wouldn’t be surprised if he starts asking me about it this week. And then everyone else does some sort of family thing.”

Tucker paused. “Well, not everyone. Donut just does stuff with Kai and Grif, and I don’t know if Tex does anything with her parents. Last year she and Church were broken up at Christmas so I have no fucking clue what she did. But Junior’s mom’s family always holds a Christmas Eve and Christmas Day celebration, so I go to that.”

Tucker scowled at his wine a bit, but quickly wiped away the expression when he spotted Wash’s concerned gaze. “Her parents are assholes and they hate me, but it’s important to Junior for everyone to be there, you know? My mom even almost came last year but she had to work last minute.”

His mom had phoned him just the other night and mentioned she might be able to visit over the holidays more than previous years. She sounded worn-out as always, but Tucker thought he could hear more bright notes of interest in her voice as they talked, and she said she would try to call on the weekend next time so she could talk to Junior.

Tucker’s aunt, on the other hand, extended an invitation for Christmas dinner once a year with as much emotion in her voice as an automated message. Tucker always declined politely with a simple statement about Junior’s mom and Junior wanting him to spend Christmas with her parents.

“That’s good that you can still have it for Junior’s sake,” Wash said softly. “I hope it’s not all horrible for you.”

“Nah, there’s always pretty decent food and Junior’s excitement is contagious,” Tucker said, smiling a little at all the holiday memories with Junior the conversation triggered. “And Crystal–his mom–doesn’t completely hate me so she’s alright to hang with.”

It took them awhile longer to finish the meal with their conversation constantly putting the actual act of eating on hold. After dinner had been finished and Tucker helped Wash put away all the dishes, he stayed over a bit longer to study with Wash. Tucker had been spending increasing amounts of time studying at Wash’s place, for Wash was both a studious person and one Tucker enjoyed hanging out with more and more.

Often he could convince Wash to intersperse the studying with Youtube clips Tucker thought were funny, or ones from his favourite movies to convince Wash to watch them later. It had already caused Wash to promise Tucker he would watch all of the original Indiana Jones movies over the Christmas break when Tucker found out Wash hadn’t seen any of them.

After some needling that night, Wash let Tucker put on some music while they studied.

Tucker always had his Ipod on him, and Wash watched as he flicked through his hundreds of songs. Tucker had to bend over the table as he did it with the Ipod already placed in Wash’s Ipod docking station, t-shirt riding up as his dreads fell into his face.  

“Seriously, though,” Tucker said as he tried to find the perfect starting song. “You could find some really awesome running playlists and shit on 8tracks.”

They already had a conversation about it over the weekend, Tucker in shock that Wash didn’t know about the website given how much Tucker loved making playlists on it for any type of occasion or mood. But Junior had pulled their attention away before they could finish that conversation, and Tucker didn’t forget easily.

“Hell,” Tucker added, “I could even make you one.”

“Why do I feel like the entire playlist would be superhero themes and cheesy oldies music?”

“Uh, cuz you love that stuff and totally already work out to it?”

Tucker glanced over his shoulder to see Wash shaking his head with an amused smile. “But really, I make awesome upbeat ones.”

“Alright alright,” Wash said, and Tucker heard the notes of contained laughter as Wash returned his gaze to his textbook lying on the table. “I will get an account on this so-called magical website and listen to whatever playlist you think I deserve.”

Tucker grinned at him and then selected a song. Once the calm notes of the song began drifting through the air, Tucker threw himself back into his seat. Wash didn’t look up, but Tucker saw him shaking his head and another smile pulling at his lips in response to Tucker’s exaggerated motions.

Neither one of them said anything, though, and Tucker pulled out his own textbook from his bag. He pulled out his pencils and began skimming the first page, forcing himself not to dwell on how much more he enjoyed studying at Wash’s house than his own place simply because of Wash’s presence.

***

That Wednesday morning they had their first league game of the season. Church couldn’t come, but he wished Caboose luck after he showed up unannounced at their apartment at six am and didn’t leave until Tucker did. Despite the early hour, Caboose chattered in Tucker’s ear the entire bus ride to the pool, and continued to speak cheerfully with the rest of the team members in the change room. Everyone else was able to make it, and they had been lucky enough to have the first game scheduled at Blood Gulch.

Church had wondered if Sarge and Wash had anything to do with that, but Tucker just waved away the idea since both Sarge and Wash offered to drive the rest of the team in their vehicles if the games were at any pools too far for them to bus to.

Both Sarge and Wash were waiting on the pool deck, equal amounts of enthusiasm lining their faces and driving their actions. Sarge stood still but his gaze kept roaming all across the deck as if he needed at least one body part to move with all his pent-up excitement. Wash bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet when he wasn’t walking, and Tucker saw the way his fingers kept going up to toy with the lanyard of his whistle.

“If you guys get overexcited and have a stroke before the game even starts, I will ban you from coming to the rest of our games,” Tucker said in greeting when he and Caboose reached them.

“Ha, I’d like to see you try and keep me from going anywhere I want to go,” Sarge replied, stepping forward with a familiar glee in his eyes.

“Is Sarge threatening to kill someone already?” Grif yawned as he and Simmons wandered over.

“You say you want me to kill you, dirtbag? I thought you’d never ask.”

“Okay!” Wash said, and clapped his hands together.

Both Tucker and Caboose moved closer to him, while the present Reds glanced over at him from where they had their mouths open to start another argument. “How about we focus that energy on the game and beating the _other_ team?”

“What’s that about the other team?” Donut’s perky voice said from behind them as he and Kai arrived. Over their shoulders, everyone could all see Sheila and Lopez heading over to them just as the opposing team spilled from the change rooms.

They all turned to watch the opposing team move toward the benches on the opposite side of the pool near the guardroom. Wash took a step toward the bulkhead, moving to stand between it and Tucker while remaining near enough for Tucker to brush their arms against each other if he so chose to.

“They don’t look like they have very many players either,” Simmons said, and Wash turned his gaze back to the Reds and Blues. Tucker did a quick headcount of the other team at Simmons’ words and found they only just had enough players to play by league standards.

“Perhaps they are suffering from the same issue as Ms. Kimball’s team,” Sheila suggested. “Though I would not call our team large given our lack of substitutions in comparison to standard teams.” 

“Maybe some of their players got lost!” Caboose said. “That happens to me almost every day at school.”

“Haven’t you been going there for three years?” Wash asked with a frown, still sometimes forgetting the best strategy when talking to Caboose was to simply not question his logic.

“Yeah, but all the buildings are very big and there are always rooms I have not yet been in and then I need to add them to my brain but sometimes I get confused while it’s happening.”

“Son, have you ever considered getting a campus buddy?” Sarge asked. “Someone from one of your classes to go with you from class to class. Like Lopez here!”

“Sí , le dan a la única persona que no habla Inglés para ser su guía.” ( _Yes, give him the one person who doesn’t speak English to be his guide._ )Lopez shook his head. “Ya tengo que cuidar a los niños la mayor parte del tiempo, más y voy a ahogarme en este momento.” _(I already have you to babysit most of the time, anymore and I will drown myself right now._ )

“Do you honestly think anyone would be able to survive that long around Caboose?” Tucker asked.

“You and Church do a good enough job in the summer,” Grif pointed out, leaning against one of the walls before yawning again. “Hell, even Tex hasn’t killed him yet.”

“I’m more concerned about his guide’s well-being than Caboose’s.”

“Oh hey.” Kai’s sudden exclamation had everyone turning to her. “I know their coach.”

They all followed her gaze to where an older man had joined the other team. Most of the players fell quiet and listened to what he was saying, though a few kept whispering regardless. When everyone glanced back at Kai with puzzled expressions, she elaborated. “Well, technically _I_ don’t know him, but Jensen does. She _hates_ him.”

“Jensen hates someone?” Tucker said, struggling to think of any time he’d seen the girl anything more than annoyed.

“Sure, the whole team does. I mean, they don’t like the team in general, but especially him. Kimball gets really spiteful when he gets brought up and any time they play a match against each other, they end up getting into huge shouting matches.”

“Kimball gets spiteful,” Simmons repeated with as much disbelief in his tone as Tucker felt.

“You guys have only met her a couple times,” Wash reminded them. “And I assume being in business means you have to know how to keep a calm face most of the times.”

“Are they exes?” Tucker pressed, and he ignored the way Wash closed his eyes in exasperation beside him.

“Maybe she’s mad because he broke her favourite cup,” Caboose suggested. “Like when Church thought it was my fault the mug Tex gave him broke.”

“Cuz you _did_ break it. You knocked it off the shelf.”

“Not my fault. Someone put it in my way.”

“They were business rivals,” Kai told them before Tucker and Caboose could continue their argument. “Part of two major companies competing against each other I guess.”

“That’s so much less exciting,” Tucker said. “Unless–”

“There was no hate sex.”

“If they were both in business and part of well-known companies, my dad might know about them,” Simmons thought, face furrowing in thought.

“ _Or_ we could not pry into anyone’s personal lives,” Wash cut in. “And focus on the fact that they are simply the coaches of other teams in our league.”

“While I do fully endorse the value of knowing your enemies,” Sarge added, “having live enemies in front of us to completely annihilate trumps sitting around and trying to figure out their boring lives.”

Tucker rolled his eyes at Sarge, but before anyone could say anything more, an unfamiliar voice called over to them and they all turned to see the other coach approaching them. He wore square glasses that kept falling down his nose and had short blond hair that lay flat on the top of his head.

“Good morning,” the man said when he reached them. “I’m Donald Doyle, coach of the Feds.”

He looked between all of them as he offered his hand as well as a smile, gaze finally moving only between Sarge and Wash. Given that Sarge was the oldest and everyone else stood behind Wash, Tucker imagined it wasn’t hard for him to guess they were the coaches.

“David Washington,” Wash said, and shook Doyle’s hand. Sarge shook it a second later. “This Sarge, our, um–”

“Co-coach from the water,” Sarge declared, and Doyle wasn’t the only one who shot Sarge a confused look.

“He’s one of our players,” Wash explained. “But he was also a coach before.”

“And since this darn league claims coaches can’t also kick some serious ass in the water, Wash here is our land coach and I’m our water coach.”

“I’m the one registered with the league,” Wash clarified, though judging by the lack of understanding on Doyle’s face, the statement didn’t provide much clarification. The situation didn’t surprise Tucker, though he did have to wonder what the age limitations were for the league and whether Sarge had been truthful about his age when they made his player card.

“I see,” Doyle said, confusion still thick in his voice.

“So you know Kimball?” Tucker blurted before anyone could say anything else.

He saw Wash glare at him from the corner of his eye, and Tucker barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Wash. He’d seen the curiosity in Wash’s own expression, even if he was better than the others at hiding it.

Doyle’s entire body went stiff at the name, and his voice lost most of the earlier pleasantness when he spoke again.

“If you are referring to Ms. Vanessa Kimball, then yes, I know the woman. We worked in the same field for many years.” His gaze went to Wash. “I’m afraid I don’t see what she has to do with this match.”

“She doesn’t,” Wash replied, and he sent a brief warning look at Tucker. “Tucker just wanted to know if all the water polo coaches knew each other.”

This time Tucker did roll his eyes, but bit his tongue at another look from Wash. Doyle seemed to deflate and the tension seeped from his voice.

“Oh yes, I suppose most of us who have been in the league for a while do.”

He shook his head, and offered them all another smile. “Well I thought since this is the first time playing against each other I should introduce myself to everyone and wish you all a good game.”

“Thank you,” Wash replied. “Good luck to you, too.”

The referee finally arrived and the game begun a few minutes later. Once more, Tucker experienced a mix of surprise and pride at how much better the Reds and Blues played together. They wouldn’t be considered the best team in the league, but they were able to gain a victory over Doyle’s team easier than Tucker first guessed. While Doyle’s team had a strong defense, they lacked a powerful attack. With no substitutions, those in the pool grew tired more easily and their offense weakened even more.

Doyle, while providing encouragement from the sidelines, didn’t appear to be providing many offensive strategies. His words were filled with sentiments for the players to continue to help the defense and their goalie, and to keep up their persistence, but no substantial offensive strategy was offered.

After listening to Doyle for an hour, Tucker decided the man didn’t possess the same confidence as both Sarge and Wash, even though he tried his best and carried himself with composure.  

The victory for the Reds and Blues made them all grin as much as their victory in the exhibition match against Kimball’s team had. That time, though, the victory became official with the presence of the referee and the knowledge the win would be placed in online standings. Despite their loss, Doyle and his team all offered their hands to shake after and Doyle gave them more pleasantries while saying he hoped to play against them again.

For once Tucker was one of the first to head toward the towels on the benches on the side of the guardroom. North had come over as soon as the game ended to let him know he thought he heard his cellphone going off during the game. So Tucker pulled himself out of the pool and excused himself for a quick moment, though he didn’t intend to leave without speaking with the others once more.

He reached the other end of the bulkhead, stepping off onto the pool deck by the guardroom as the low murmur of the other team’s conversation reached his ears.

“Tucker, wasn’t it?” Tucker turned at the sound of Doyle’s voice and saw the man approaching him.

He gave Tucker another pleasant smile, though Tucker could catch glimpses of uncertainty in his eyes as clearly as he could spot the sun on a clear day. He remembered what Wash said earlier about being good at business, and wondered if Doyle was more or less confident at his job.

“You were the one asking about Ms. Kimball earlier?” Doyle continued, and Tucker turned to face him fully.

“Yeah. You need something?”

“I was just wondering why you were so curious,” Doyle said, and Tucker wanted to say the same thing to him but he stayed quiet. “Are the two of you close friends?”

“Nah, she just brings her kids to swimming lessons at the same time my kid has them.” Unable to get Kai’s earlier words out of his head and in part motivated by the truth of his thoughts, Tucker added, “She seems cool.”

“Her…children?” Doyle repeated instead of responding to Tucker’s last statement.

“Yeah, the kids she babysits,” Tucker said before realizing Kimball probably didn’t share that information with someone she only yelled at.

“That is a terrifying image.”

“The kids love her,” Tucker said with a frown. He studied Doyle’s pale face, but found a lack of the sneer and derision he expected. Instead, disbelief widened his eyes and something akin to fear twisted his mouth.

“An equally terrifying image.”

“You’re not a fan of children, are you?” Tucker realized, and Doyle glanced at the pool.

“I prefer those who are as old as those on my water polo team,” he admitted. “Any younger and there’s too much, well, mess you have to deal with. All that drooling and crying and sticky fingers, not to mention the _screaming_.”

Doyle looked more and more ready to faint the more he said on the matter. While Tucker was tempted to press the subject, he didn’t want to be responsible for some dude cracking his head open on the pool deck and the lifeguards’ subsequent treatment of him.

“Hey, coach,” one of Doyle’s players called before either of them could say anything more. The player appeared at Doyle’s shoulder in the second it took for Tucker to blink. “This dude bothering you?”

“Whoa,” Tucker said, taking a step back and holding up his hands at the other boy’s aggressive posture. “Chill, dude. I’m not here to assassinate your coach or whatever.”

The other boy glared at him and by that point, Tucker was seriously considering getting Kai to give him Jensen’s number so he could get all the information about the two team’s histories. If only so he didn’t accidentally end up caught in the middle.

“It’s quite alright, Randy,” Doyle assured the guy who looked at least four years younger than Tucker. “I was just asking him about a mutual acquaintance.”

Tucker didn’t miss the way Doyle hesitated before the word ‘acquaintance’, but Randy seemed satisfied with the answer. At the same time, Tucker heard the sound of Wash calling his name, and he waved goodbye and headed over to the source without even considering another course of action. Wash crossed his arms at his approach and Tucker rocked back onto his heels when he reached him.

“What?” Tucker asked, and Wash narrowed his eyes at him.

“What were you doing with Doyle?”

“I was just chatting! Am I not allowed to do that?”

“I know you, Tucker. That was _not_ your talking face.”

“Oh no?” Tucker said, leaning forward a little at the challenge and a hint of a smirk appeared on Wash’s face.”

“No. That was your shit-causing face. Which is basically your default expression, but there are some slight differences people can see after being stuck with you for so long.”

“Claiming to be an expert on that now, Wash?” Tucker teased, letting himself grin despite the way his heart beat faster than it should be. Wash offered him a full smirk at that, arms loosening and moving to dangle at his sides.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’d make the same claim about me,” Wash said dryly.

Tucker’s grin just widened as Wash let all his amusement become visible in his face.

Tucker tried not to think about how it would have been a perfect time to give Wash a quick, teasing kiss if they were dating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I never thought it would take this long for Doyle to be introduced, but as I'm sure you guys realized, the length has completely gotten away from me. I promise there will continue to be more bits with the characters of Chorus later.  
> (I'm a very inexperienced cook so sorry if that scene was inaccurate).


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epsilon stared at him a little longer before saying, “Promise?”

Theta remained as attached to North as he had since their first session of lessons together, and every time he received praise from North, he gave North the biggest grin he could. He improved steadily, even if the improvement seemed as small as making it an extra meter on his distance swim. He still occasionally called out to Delta, who offered him the same gentle words about doing well and also listening to North. Whenever North granted Theta a few minutes at the end to do jumps or dives, he flung himself into the pool with a joy that made North instantly smile in return.  

On the fifth Saturday of the second session of lessons, North was grateful for Theta’s endless and easy affection more than ever. North and South’s parents had finally made good on their word and were down for the weekend. Both North and South had asked for the afternoon and evening off from work as their parents wished to go out for a family dinner. They took the evening off for the dinner and the afternoon for, as South had put it, some downtime before the shit storm.

“Are you okay, North?” Theta asked near the end of the lesson. 

They stood in the shallow end as Theta prepared to do one last length of side glide.North started a little, for he thought he had been acting as he normally did around Theta.

“Sorry, Theta,” North said. “Was I acting weird?”

“Your face got all strange like Mom’s sometimes does when she’s worrying about Dad,” Theta said, eyes wide with his own worry. “She smiles, but she still looks sad.”

“I’m not sad,” North assured him. “Just thinking about stuff.”

“About what?” Theta asked, and he took an eager step forward when North glanced at the clock. “I won’t tell anyone, promise! And Delta always says I’m good at giving hugs when people are sad.”

North couldn’t stop himself from smiling slightly at that.

“I just have a family dinner tonight that might end in some arguments,” North told him, trying to choose his words carefully. “But it’ll be okay. I’m sorry for distracting you from the lesson, Theta.”

Theta studied him for only a second before the small boy wrapped his arms around North’s waist. This time, North didn’t hesitate before returning the hug briefly. When Theta pulled away, one of hands slipped into North’s in a gesture of comfort.

“It’s okay! I told you about my dad and you were really nice so I should do the same thing for you. Grandma’s always saying relationships are a give and take, and Miss. Kimball said that means both people are supposed to help each other and you can’t expect one person to do _everything_.”

“That’s very good advice,” North said, and Theta beamed at him.

When North got his break two hours later, he entered the guardroom to find one missed call from South and a text message from her telling him to call as soon as he was on break. With no one else in the guardroom and anxiety already starting to trigger a rapid heartbeat, North called her back.

“Dad’s insisting on brunch _and_ dinner now,” South said the second she picked up the phone.

He couldn’t hear anyone in the background, and North assumed she remained in her bedroom while their mom sat downstairs somewhere. Maine had been gracious about letting their mom stay at their place for the weekend while their dad found a hotel to stay at.

“What did Mom say?” North asked, taking a seat on the first aid cot and nestling in the corner of the two intersecting walls.

“She’s just agreeing with him. They wanted to phone you but I reminded them for the hundredth fucking time that you work till one.”

“Yeah,” North said, for he had managed to get the afternoon off but insisted on still working in the morning.

“Right, so I told them you probably couldn’t come,” South continued. “And that the three of us could just go.”

“Go with them by yourself?” North asked, and frowned. South and their mom together didn’t always end badly. But South alone with their dad and mom was asking for disaster.

“Sure. You’re the one working this morning, and I wouldn’t want to come deal with their fucking shit after five hours at the pool.”

She was covering for him, just like she always did when they were children and their dad tried to turn his foul mood on North. She made it easy for their dad to focus on her, never lowering her voice when she swore or suppressing the aggressive confidence in her walk. Her dyed hair, pierced nose, bloody knuckles, and ripped jeans meant their parents could say they were just focusing on the problem child when she dragged their negative attention to her rather than North.

They forgot, like everyone else, that she could sneak even better than North, and if they were seeing her it was only because she wanted them to.

“No, it’s fine,” North told her. “I’ll just ask Tex if I can leave at noon instead of doing deck clean-up.”

He glanced out at the deck and once more heard the accusations she’d flung at him at the staff party as clearly as if they had argued only an hour ago. “Sides, you didn’t want me ignoring the problem, right?”

“His entire existence is a problem,” she muttered, and then raised her voice. “Alright. Fair warning, though, he was already trying to give me shit about school over the phone when he called about this. Guessing he’s not gonna stay quiet over lunch either.”

“You just got a ninety-five on your midterm,” North replied, for she had very pointedly shown him the grade when it was posted the other day.

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to shove that in his face when he tries to give me shit.”

“I can print off your transcript for you,” North offered, making sure to keep his voice light even as he could feel a headache already beginning to scratch at his temples. “I’m sure you’d like having the actual physical object to shove at him.”

A brief pause filled the airwaves between them, and North didn’t need to see her to picture the cautious surprise on her face. He didn’t take back his words or argue that responding in such a manner would only make the situation more volatile, and she finally snorted.

“Maybe I’ll stuff it in his food. Then he can literally choke on how _wrong_ he is.”

“No murder at the dinner table, South,” North said mildly. “Mom would be upset. Did she say anything about it besides agreeing?”

“Course not. You know her–just said it wouldn’t kill us to act like a family for one night, and then said she really hoped I wouldn’t wear what I normally do when we went out. It’s not like we’re dining first fucking class or some shit.”

“I’ll make sure they stay civil,” North promised even though they both knew nobody could keep their dad civil when he didn’t want to be.

All they could do was hope it was too early for him to order any alcohol. Other than that, North would focus on watching his own words and actions so his teasing and timing didn’t make South feel like he was teaming up with their parents or invalidating her.  

South didn’t say anything for a long moment and North heard their mom yell something on her end.

“Right, well enjoy the rest of your break,” South said. “I’ll go make sure you have enough time to at least get changed before the asshole shows up.”

“See you soon,” North said, and South hung up a second later.

North glanced out at the clock and calculated how much time he had left before he had to return to his lessons. Not nearly enough, in his opinion, but no amount of time could ever prepare either of the twins’ for the train wreck their family gatherings had become.

***

The moment Epsilon spotted Wash coming toward him, the boy’s entire body relaxed and his gaze no longer darted around the pool deck. The boy had been easier with Wash ever since he told him about the phone. He still talked back as much as he could, and Wash still caught glimpses of anxiety in his eyes, but there was a teasing tone to his comebacks and he no longer took issue with standing right beside Wash. In turn, his swimming was making steady improvements, though Wash was sure Vanessa’s efforts to have all the kids go to every lesson helped with that as well.

That Saturday, Wash switched up the order of the lesson by having the talk about the level’s safety items at the end of the lesson rather than at the start. He let Epsilon grab his towel and then they sat on the benches together, Epsilon’s towel wrapped firmly around his shoulders while Wash asked him about boat safety.

“Hey, Wash.”

Epsilon’s gaze snapped up at the sound of Tex’s voice, and Wash looked up to see her standing right in front of them. Water dripped down her body, though she had already put her black manager’s shirt over top of her swimsuit.

“Just letting you know Junior’s not here today,” Tex told him.

Epsilon inched to the edge of his seat even as a blush crept up his neck, and Wash frowned. He glanced over at York’s lesson, and quickly found Junior to be missing just as Tex said. When he scanned the rest of the benches, he didn’t see any hint of Tucker. “And Rachel just left the lesson for the day, so York won’t need your help once you’re done with Epsilon.”

Epsilon straightened at his name coming from Tex’s mouth, and Tex spared him a glance before turning back to Wash. “Anyways, I gotta go deal with that angry dad from yesterday.”

“The one who got mad at us for wearing flip-flops on the deck?”

“The one and only.”

“Have fun,” Wash said, and she just offered them half a wave as she headed off toward the man tapping his foot on the deck and glaring at her approach.

“Is she gonna go yell at that dude?” Epsilon asked, his gaze never leaving her back.

“Well, she’ll tell him off at least.”

“Because he’s being an asshole?”

“Language,” Wash reminded him. “But yes, he was being really unreasonable yesterday and he’s been complaining again today.”

Wash glanced up at the clock and how little time they had left in their lesson. He turned back to Epsilon and opened his mouth to direct Epsilon’s attention to the remainder of their lesson, but Epsilon spoke before he could.

“She looked at my pictures,” he blurted, and finally looked back at Wash for a moment.

Wash shut his mouth when he spotted the eagerness in Epsilon’s eyes, and heard the way his desperate need to share made the words rush from his mouth. “One of the ones I took on my phone. She said they were so good, I should go into photography when I got older.”

Wash wondered if Tex knew at the time just how much her words meant to Epsilon. A blush still coloured his face as he repeated Tex’s words, but none of the confidence pulling his spine straight and lending firmness to his words was fake. The happiness in his gaze refused to let even the smallest blots of anxiety creep into the corners of his eyes, and Wash felt a large smile form on his own face in response.

“Then they must be really awesome,” Wash told him. “Tex wouldn’t say something she didn’t mean.”

Even if the person she was speaking to was a child, she was rarely dishonest about her opinion as far as Wash knew.

That made Epsilon grin, and he looked back to where Tex stood. Wash didn’t know how long she had let the man talk, but she was already shutting him down as they watched. She didn’t need to raise her voice or cross her arms, and the man already looked like he wanted to leave. They watched him try to hold Tex’s gaze, only to glance away every few seconds as he hunched in on himself.

“She’s so cool,” Epsilon said, focus staying on Tex as the man finally got another word in only to look down at the ground at Tex’s quick reply.

Wash hesitated for a moment, studying the small boy beside him before deciding there could be no harm in trying.

“I can definitely understand why someone would like her,” Wash said, trying to mold his tone so it was clear he referred to something more than platonic attraction.

 “Yeah,” Epsilon replied, still staring at Tex like she was the only spot of colour in a grey room. A second passed and then Epsilon’s gaze jerked to Wash’s face. “I mean, not me–she’s really cool–I mean I think she–maybe someone else–someone who’s not me–”

“Epsilon,” Wash cut him off gently. “It’s okay.”

Epsilon fell quiet, sharp gaze studying the expression Wash kept as open and understanding as he could. A single second passed, and all the fight suddenly went out of Epsilon as his tensed shoulders slumped a little.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he told Wash.

“I won’t.”

Epsilon stared at him a little longer before saying, “Promise?”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” Wash said, mirroring Epsilon’s serious expression and tone of voice.

The way Epsilon had easily given in surprised Wash, but he had never intended to use such information against the child. If Epsilon didn’t want anyone to know, then no one would hear it from Wash’s lips.

“Okay,” Epsilon said, and his tone held the most trust Wash had yet to hear from the child.

The lesson finished soon after and Epsilon hopped down to join the other children at the bench over. Wash walked toward the guardroom, mind going to Tucker and Junior’s absence and the lack of Tucker’s text messages from yesterday as soon as his attention fell away from Epsilon.

Gamma slowly crawled out from beneath the bench that Epsilon and Wash had just been talking on. He clutched a paused DS in his hand, and he blinked as his gaze found Epsilon where he now sat listening to Theta. For a long moment Gamma simply stared at Epsilon, and if Epsilon had looked back, Gamma’s expression would have caused him to stomp right over and demand to know what the fuck Gamma had found out.

But Epsilon didn’t look back, and Gamma said nothing when he wandered back over to the other children with his gaze fixated on his game screen.  

***

Carolina’s strategy with Eta and Iota didn’t work a hundred percent of the time immediately following its implementation. Instead it created slow gains so that by the fifth lesson, they were striving for ten minutes of uninterrupted swimming before their reward.

The girls were quieter and more subdued than Carolina had ever seen them on the fifth Saturday. When they started outside of the pool with a review of some of the level’s safety items, their voices were soft and Iota didn’t lean forward in her eagerness to answer the question. Eta didn’t ask any new follow-up questions like she normally did, just accepted Carolina’s answer with a nod.

They got into the pool and Iota brushed up against Carolina but restrained herself from giving her usual greeting hug. Carolina stared at her, but both girls were already sidling over to the shallow end wall and facing the rest of the lane. Their hands found each other’s and then they lifted their gaze to Carolina in silence.

“Okay,” Carolina said after a few seconds. “Let’s start with our front glides. Remember, try and do ten minutes with no questions that don’t have to do with the lesson and no horseplay.”

The girls nodded and Carolina had Eta begin. The girls made it ten minutes without any questions or grabbing from Iota, and Carolina stopped them in the shallow end.

“Good job, you guys made it ten minutes,” she told them, and offered a smile. “Iota, do you want to go first for a reward?”

Both of the girls looked at each other and then stared at her with wide eyes full of surprise. When neither of them moved, Carolina felt unease begin to build in her chest.

“Is everything okay?” she asked them.

“You’re not gonna get mad at us?” Iota blurted. “You’re really okay with it?”

“We made a deal,” Carolina said, and then looked between the two of them. “Did someone get mad at you recently?”

“Some kids yelled at Iota for hugging yesterday at recess,” Eta replied, voice barely above a whisper. “And my teacher yelled at me for asking too many questions. And then Omega said this morning that’s because nobody but babies and weirdos like that kind of stuff.”

“Did you tell Ms. Kimball about all this?”

“We didn’t want her to be mad at us,” Iota whispered, and now Carolina understood why they were being so quiet and hunching away from her.

“Well I’m not mad,” Carolina assured them. “And I don’t think Ms. Kimball would be either. I think she’d just want to talk with you about it.”

The girls looked unconvinced so Carolina bit back her desire to simply move on and mentally crossed out jumps from the lesson in exchange for their current conversation.

“Iota,” Carolina said, and she bent down so she didn’t tower over the worried girl. “Did you ask those other kids if you could hug them?”

“No.”

“Has anyone ever told you it’s important to ask people before you do anything like that?”

“Yeah,” Iota replied, and shame dragged the volume of her voice down. “But I always forget because I just get really happy when I see everyone and then I want to hug them cuz I’m so happy.”

“I just want to know more,” Eta added, voice a little louder than her sister’s but still far below its normal volume.

“Okay,” Carolina said, and took a second to consider the words that would be the perfect balance of acceptance, and a reminder of respecting others’ boundaries. “I understand both of your reasons and Omega was wrong. Hugging and asking questions are both normal, and good things a lot of the times. But Iota, there are some people who just don’t like hugs. They shouldn’t yell at you if you make the mistake, but you should also try to ask first if you don’t know the person and you don’t know if they like hugs. Does that sound reasonable?”

“Yeah,” Iota said, and a little of the shame seeped from her expression. Carolina felt relief bite away the unease at the reaction, but she turned to Eta rather than revel in the small success with Iota.

“Eta, always wanting to know more and asking questions means you’re going to learn so many things on your own and that’s awesome. But teachers can’t spend all class answering more questions because they need to go over the basic information for everyone. That’s why we have the ten minute rule here. So how about you write down any question that you can think of during class, and then you can ask your teacher about them at lunch or after school if she or he has time?”

“I could do that,” Eta said, confidence returning and strengthening her voice. Carolina smiled at them.

“Okay. You might not remember right away, but keep trying, okay? And talk to your parents and Ms. Kimball about it if you need to.”

They both nodded, and stood straighter than they had all lesson. “Now, do you each want your reward before we continue?”

Iota rushed forward and flung her arms around Carolina’s waist before anyone could get another word out. Carolina held her as the girl whispered her gratitude and then let go so her twin could have a turn. The two returned to their usual levels of energy as the rest of the lesson progressed, but even if it meant they struggled to pay as much attention, Carolina regretted none of her words.

***

Tucker got a text message from Junior’s mom right before water polo practice on Friday telling him Junior seemed a bit off and to pay attention to his phone in case the school called. By the time Tucker got changed after practice, he had a voicemail from the school saying Junior was sick and needed to go home.

Tucker bused over to pick up Junior immediately after he got the message. He arrived to find his son slumped in a plastic chair in the school’s office, his backpack resting at his feet. The secretary offered Tucker a sympathetic smile when he arrived, and Junior lifted his arms toward Tucker without moving from his seat. Tucker reached down and lifted Junior into a hug within seconds, and Junior buried his face in Tucker’s chest.

“He said his ears really hurt and he seems to have a fever,” the secretary told him as Tucker signed Junior out. “His teacher said he seemed a little tired when he first got here and he started getting worse after reading time.”

Tucker thanked her, her genuine sympathy making his shoulders relax a fraction and keeping any instinctive defensiveness from his tone. Once he had a firm grip on both bags and Junior, he left the office and headed back down to the bus stop. While they waited for the bus, Tucker felt Junior’s damp forehead and asked Junior questions about how he felt. Just as the secretary reported, the boy told Tucker his ears hurt and he felt too hot.

“Does your head hurt too?” Tucker asked, and Junior nodded. “Do you just want to sleep?”

“Yeah,” Junior whispered as the bus rumbled to a stop in front of them.

“Soon as we get home you can get into your PJs and go to sleep,” Tucker reassured him. They stepped onto the bus and Tucker forced himself to focus on the weight of Junior in his arms while they sat down instead of the glances all the other passengers gave them. “You just gotta let me check your temperature first.”

Junior had just nodded and Tucker spent most of Friday looking after him, calling Junior’s mom once Junior was asleep to give her an update and then listen to her long opinion. Junior woke up again by the time Church got home from classes, but the boy didn’t have the energy to do anything but sit in Tucker’s lap and stare blearily at the cartoons on the TV.

Saturday when Tucker woke Junior up for swimming lessons, he found the fever still clung to him and Junior barely lifted his head at Tucker’s voice. When Tucker asked if he felt any better, Junior shook his head and looked on the verge of crying.

“My ears really hurt, Daddy,” he whispered, and Tucker sunk onto the edge of the bed. He pushed the hair back from Junior’s forehead and then felt the hot skin. Junior closed his eyes and pushed his head harder against Tucker’s cool hand.

“Try and get some more sleep, okay, buddy?” Tucker glanced at the clock. “If you’re not feeling better in the afternoon and it still hurts, we’ll go see a doctor.”

Junior didn’t answer, but Tucker saw his eyes squeeze tighter as if that would help him sleep better. Tucker hurried to the washroom to grab a wet cloth for Junior’s forehead and then sat with his son for a long time as Junior drifted in and out of sleep.

When Tucker left briefly to check on Church, he found his roommate gone and a text message on his phone letting him know he’d gone to the library to study. An hour later, Junior didn’t want to stay in bed anymore but didn’t have energy for anything more than watching TV and eating some apple sauce. Tucker took his temperature again and asked about his ears, both met with the same results as when Junior first woke that morning.

While Junior watched some cartoons, Tucker pulled out his laptop and tried to ignore the anxious messages from Junior’s mom about how dangerous fevers could be for little kids. The sight of Junior hunched over with a listless gaze that kept screwing up in pain was enough to ignite heart pounding panic in Tucker, and thinking about all those warnings to do with children and fevers did nothing to help that fear.

When Junior glanced at him, Tucker just offered him a smile and let him know he was looking up the clinics near them. Junior already looked ready to cry from the pain, and any sign of anxiety of Tucker would just make things worse.

Tucker tried making them both soup for lunch after finding where nearby clinics were, but the warm liquid didn’t make Junior feel any better. After consuming it, he laid down on the couch with some action figures and moved them up and down with far less energy than usual. He didn’t narrate any stories out loud either, and Tucker knelt beside him.

“Still feeling like crap?” Tucker asked.

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes when Tucker felt his forehead again. “Are we gonna see the doctor now?”

“Yeah,” Tucker said even though the thought of going to the clinic made his body go stiff and his chest tight. He straightened and glanced around the living room. “Let me just get our stuff and check the buses.”

Tucker began rushing around the apartment as he packed a bag for them to bring to the clinic. Juice, apple sauce, and some crackers were all taken from the kitchen, and some toys and Tucker’s wallet were taken from his bedroom. He could feel his heartbeat beginning to increase just from the preparation, but he kept shoving his thoughts back to Junior’s distress rather than the image of a crowded clinic filled with scornful gazes.

Just as Tucker was rummaging through the dresser for comfy clothes to put Junior in, he heard his phone chime from the other room.

 _Everything ok?_ A text from Wash read when Tucker checked his phone. _Junior not feel like going to swimming?_

 _Sorry,_ Tucker texted back. _Junior sick, have 2 take him 2 clinic._

 _Do you need a ride?_ The reply from Wash came within seconds and Tucker stared down at the message.

It would be quicker with a car, but Tucker knew how crammed Wash’s schedule was. Before he could consider the offer any longer, another text message popped up.

_Tucker, I know you don’t have a car so unless someone else is driving you, I’ll come get the two of you in fifteen._

_Aren’t you busy?_

_Fifteen minutes._

Under normal circumstances, guilt would have pricked at Tucker’s skin and tightened his throat. If Tucker was the one who lay sick on the couch, he would have protested more or argued back given how much stress he knew Wash carried with him every day. But it was Junior who looked up at him from the couch with fever glazed eyes and kept grabbing for Tucker because of the pain in his ear. It was Junior who had tossed and turned with his illness all night, and Junior who no longer had the energy to bounce around and grin at Tucker.

So Tucker could only reply,

_Ok. Thank you._

Then he finished packing and helped Junior change into stain free clothes for the clinic. He helped Junior into a coat and then shoved a hat on his head before Tucker put on his own winter coat. Tucker told Junior that Wash would drive them and then picked Junior up when Wash texted to say he had arrived. Junior rested his cheek against Tucker’s shoulder as Tucker carried him and the backpack to the elevator and then out through the cold air to Wash’s car.

“Hey,” Wash greeted them from the driver’s seat when Tucker opened the back doors of the car. Grey clouds hung in the sky above them as Tucker helped Junior slide into the car. “You’re not feeling too good, Junior?”

“My ears really hurt,” Junior whispered, and Wash twisted in his seat to hear him better. “And Daddy says I got a fever.”

“That’s no good,” Wash said, and his gaze meant Tucker’s briefly as Tucker slid into the spot beside Junior. “But I’m sure the doctor will make you feel a lot better.”

“Thanks again,” Tucker told him while buckling up Junior’s seat belt.

“Any time,” Wash said, and then pulled out of the apartment parking lot.

Once Junior settled in the seat with his hand firmly wrapped around Tucker’s, Tucker turned his attention to Wash. Tucker leaned forward in his seat to ramble off the address and directions to the nearest clinic according to Google. Wash nodded and smoothly switched lanes to take the next right turn.

“Sorry,” Tucker blurted after long moments of silence in which Junior stared out the window and his gaze seemed to drift far away from the scenery flashing outside. Cars blurred by around them, and heat blasting from Wash’s car vents slowly replaced the chill of the winter air.

Wash glanced back at him in the rear view mirror and Tucker noted they were only a few minutes away from their destination. “Seems like most of the time you get to see him, something’s wrong.”

“That’s not true,” Wash argued. “I’ve seen him plenty of times when he’s happy.

“He’s gotten upset basically every time you see him.” Tucker tightened his hold on Junior’s hand. “With good reason, but still.”

“Sure I’ve seen him cry a few times, but like you said, he goes from low to high quick again like most kids. He’s been happy the majority of the time, and everyone gets upset sometimes.”

Wash glanced back to offer Junior a fond smile even though the boy paid neither of them any attention. “Besides, he’s been pretty happy in swimming lessons.”

“Only cuz you’re there now,” Tucker replied before he could consider his words, and how telling they might be of his deeper feelings for Wash.

“I–” Wash coughed, and turned left on an advance arrow before Tucker could say anything. “Well I’m glad I could help.”

“Not that York isn’t a good teacher,” Tucker said quickly into the ensuing silence, praying his tone didn’t sound anything more than casual even with the alarm blaring in his head.

Tucker would have preferred to just bang his head against the window for constantly slipping into deep sentiment, but forced more words out his mouth. “Just it’s better when there’s two people there he knows and you know, he’s hung out with you outside the pool a lot so yeah.”

Before Wash could say anything more, they arrived at the clinic parking lot. The grey, one-story building occupied most of the large lot, with a small bubble tea shop and Subway squeezed against the clinic’s right side. Cars roared by on the roads surrounding the plaza, but there were under ten cars in the actual parking lot.

They all climbed out of the car into the gusting wind. Tucker carried Junior and Wash grabbed their bags as they headed across the cracked pavement, and Tucker tried not to let the decrepit appearance of the clinic’s outer walls turn him away. A glimpse through the large window promised a cozier looking interior, with clean floors, a tidy reception desk, piles of magazines on the small tables, and several potted plants decorating the corners.

Automated doors slid open at their approach and Tucker nearly stumbled to a halt in the middle of the doorway in his attempt to do a quick survey of the other people in the room. Two other families and three adults sat in the brown, cushioned chairs, one mother and one of the single adults glancing up at their entrance. Tucker’s grip on Junior tightened at the sudden gazes studying the two of them, and then Wash’s hand on his shoulder stopped him from glaring back at the strangers.

“You remembered your guys’ health cards, right?” Wash asked.

“Of course, I’m not a fucking idiot,” Tucker snapped back, and he winced at the harshness of his own voice. Wash stared a little, and Tucker could clearly see his confusion over the sudden difference in Tucker’s attitude toward him.

“Sorry,” Tucker said, struggling to soften his words even though the mother was still studying Junior. “Yeah, I got them.”

“I can get us seats,” Wash replied, no trace of resentment over Tucker’s actions in his voice or green eyes.

Tucker nodded, and set Junior down as he explained the situation to him. While Tucker went up to the receptionist to give her Junior’s information and health card, Wash helped Junior climb into the seats and saved one for Tucker. Tucker kept glancing back at them as the receptionist neatly filled out information, and he tried to keep his gaze from straying anywhere else as only the sight of them sitting together eased the tension spiraling through him.

Once Tucker joined Wash and Junior on the chairs, Junior crawled into Tucker’s lap and Wash moved over into the now empty seat. From there it was a waiting game, Junior leaning back into Tucker’s chest and Wash quickly pulling out his phone to check for any messages.

Despite Tucker telling himself not to, he began to study the rest of the people in the room. One of the other families’ present had a child who looked to be a couple years older than Junior with them. The little girl sat in her grandma’s lap while her middle-aged mother sat beside them and read to the little girl.

The mother who had been studying Junior when they first walked in held a baby in her arms, and her husband sat beside her with a toddler in his arms. Their clothes, bags, and conversation screamed white, higher middle class, and Tucker felt himself stiffen each time the parents glanced their way.

The three single adults ranged in age, gender, and ethnicity, but all of them were at least a few years older than Wash and Tucker, and none appeared overly stressed despite their current setting.

It didn’t take long for Tucker to both grow bored and anxious of his observation of the other people. He shifted Junior onto his left leg and tried to focus on the weight of his son in his lap, but the unnatural warmth of his body only made Tucker’s throat and lungs close even tighter.

For he knew realistically that Junior had been sick before and even if everyone was always saying how bad high fevers were for children, Junior’s was probably nothing out of the ordinary. The doctor would give him some pain medication for his ear and the fever, and simply recommend the usual self-care methods until the fever broke in what would probably be a day.

Tucker knew all that, just as he knew getting sick was normal, but he still couldn’t keep the spikes of anxiety every time he spotted one of the other people in the room or the receptionist staring at Junior or Tucker. He couldn’t stop the feeling of being a complete failure to his kid from growing stronger and stronger the longer they sat there in silence beneath the bright interior lights.

“Hey.” Tucker jerked his gaze sharply to Wash as his hand landed on the knee of the leg Tucker had been moving up and down in his nervousness. He felt his whole body go still at both Wash’s touch and steady gaze while Junior simply shifted slightly in Tucker’s grip.

“It will be okay, Tucker,” Wash said, offering him a slight smile. “Junior will be fine. The doctors are just busy.”

“I know that,” Tucker said. His words came out harsh once more thanks to his self-consciousness,but every other word he wanted to say got tangled in his throat.

Instead of replying when Tucker struggled to say more, Wash reached over to where his backpack rested on the grey, carpeted ground. From his bag, he pulled out a notebook and marker, flipping quickly to the back where there were still blank pages.

“Hey, Junior,” Wash said as he began to move his marker across the page. “You want to see the Hulk?”

Junior lifted his head at that and twisted his gaze toward Wash without moving away from the shelter of Tucker’s body. Wash’s marker moved quickly across the page, and within minutes he tilted it toward Junior so he could see.

“He looks funny,” Junior told him, but he didn’t sound upset by it. Tucker felt amusement break through his anxiety briefly when he studied the tiny doodle of the Hulk Wash had drawn, the Hulk’s large fists raised to the sky he howled at.

“It’s cuz Hawkeye’s being annoying,” Tucker offered, and Wash touched the marker to the page again.

Both of them watched as Wash quickly sketched a building in the corner of the page and then drew Hawkeye hanging upside down from a window while sticking his tongue out at the Hulk.

“He and Spidey are distracting him from bench pressing,” Wash told them without looking up from the page.

His doodles grew as Junior asked what he meant, and then stared as Wash drew goofy and simplistic versions of Iron Man and Thor being lifted by the Hulk’s fists. Junior leaned forward in Tucker’s lap while Wash added Black Widow and Captain America standing nearby with a sign that read seven points and eight points respectively. Then he quickly added Spiderman hanging by his feet from Hawkeye’s head and also sticking his tongue out at the Hulk.

“That’s silly!” Junior told him, but even the sickness couldn’t keep him from smiling at the drawings. Wash smiled right back, and adjusted his seating so his shoulder brushed against Tucker’s and they could both see the page even easier.

“You know what would be even sillier?” Tucker asked him, latching onto the harmless doodles in an effort to combat his anxiety. His voice still grated on his own ears with the unintended note of aggression, and he tried to force it away when he spoke again. “If Wash’s cats stole their masks and weapons.”

He grinned at Wash who laughed in response and then flipped to a new page to begin drawing. Wash drew Mimi wearing Iron Man’s mask, Furbomb napping in Captain America’s shield, Cynthia dashing away with Thor’s hammer, and Hawkeye’s bow dragging from Dennis’s body.

Wash’s doodles were simple, but the pain showed in Junior’s expression less and less as the images distracted him, and Tucker and Wash weaved together silly stories while Wash drew them.

Tucker noticed the girl with her grandma and mother tug at her mother’s arm as she stared at the images pouring from Wash’s marker. When the woman looked over and met Tucker’s gaze, Tucker went still, ready to snap at her before he realized he could see no judgement in her face. She offered Tucker a smile instead and gave Wash a quick compliment before the girl’s grandma distracted her. Wash and Junior’s words were dragging Tucker’s attention away a second later, and Tucker felt the tightness in his chest loosen the more Wash drew and Junior babbled.

By the time the doctor called them into his office, Tucker felt more composed than he had since getting the call about Junior being sick. Junior still didn’t want to walk, so Tucker carried him into the doctor’s room while Wash stayed behind with their bags.

“Alrightie, what seems to be the problem?” the doctor asked Tucker and Junior cheerfully after introducing herself as Doctor Grey. Tucker helped Junior up onto the black bench, white paper crinkling beneath him.

She listened to both Junior and Tucker’s report of his symptoms before examining Junior herself. Tucker leaned against the white walls and tried not to tap his foot nervously while she went to work with a smile amidst her meticulously clean room. She assured them that the pain in Junior’s ear was triggered by the fever, not a separate or particularly harmful ear infection. She gave Tucker a prescription for medicine for the pain and fever, and told him to keep checking Junior’s fever regularly and seek more help if any of the symptoms got worse.

“He does seem pretty tuckered out, like you say, but he _is_ responding well to stimuli,” she said as they stood up to go. “And you said he was responding to all your questions?”

“Yeah.”

“Excellent, keep an eye on that. If the fever doesn’t go away by tomorrow night you can come on back here, but go to emergency if it goes above 39.4 degrees Celsius. Got all that?”

“Yeah,” Tucker said with a nod, biting back a snapped reply at the intensity in her gaze. Something about her sharp gaze coupled with her cheerful tone made him think she wouldn’t hesitate to use a scalpel for harm rather than help.

“Excellent! The Internet will probably tell you the same thing but just remember, there are trolls on _every_ web forum so sadly amputation is not in fact the first solution!”

“Um–”

Before Tucker could think of a coherent response, a knock came at the door and the receptionist poked her head in after Doctor Grey cheerfully called for her to enter.

“Doyle was just on the line,” she told Doctor Grey with a quick smile at Tucker and Junior first. “Just letting you know about the new orders for the waiting room.”

“What new orders?” she asked as she ripped off a prescription and handed it to Tucker.  “I swear, if he ordered _another_ potted plant–”

“He said the place was still looking rather drab,” the receptionist replied while Tucker shoved the prescription into his pocket and Doctor Grey glared at the woman.

“It’s a clinic, not an art gallery! People will survive an hour without thinking about interior decor.”

“Uh, thanks again,” Tucker said. He quickly ducked out of the room when Doctor Grey just waved at him, not caring to find out if it was the same Doyle he knew if it meant getting trapped in an argument with the doctor.  

Wash smiled at the news when Tucker reached him in the waiting room of the clinic, and once more offered to drive Tucker and Junior where they needed to go. Tucker didn’t bother doubting the offer that time, and Junior’s request to look at the doodles again washed away any splinters of guilt that remained in Tucker. They headed out to the car together, and Tucker felt his shoulders relax the moment the automated doors slid shut on the stares of those still waiting in the clinic. Bits of tension remained even as they all crossed the parking lot together and other people climbed out of their own cars to head inside.

Once in Wash’s car, Junior flipped through the doodles as Wash drove them to the drugstore and then back to Tucker’s apartment beneath a cloudy sky. Tucker repeated to Wash what the doctor had told them once they neared the apartment, and as Wash followed them up their room with his bag over his shoulders.

“That’s good, right?” Wash said when Tucker finally finished.

He stood inside the bedroom doorway, watching while Tucker got Junior settled in the bed with his toys after swallowing down his medicine. Tucker nodded and ruffled his son’s hair gently.

“Yeah,” Tucker said, and then to Junior, “the pain should go away a bit so try and close your eyes a little, okay? I’m just gonna get you some juice.”

Junior nodded and lay down with his toys clutched in his small hands. Tucker offered him a kiss to the forehead before joining Wash in the living room and closing the door to the bedroom.

“Yeah,” Tucker repeated, coming to a halt as the familiar surroundings triggered an overwhelming surge of relief.

The relief couldn’t instantly erase all the tension and anxiety that the trip to the clinic had triggered, though, and Tucker could feel it thrumming through him even beneath the relief. Instead of making him feel better, the differing sentiments just combined into a volatile mixture that gnawed at Tucker’s insides until he felt drained of everything but the raw vulnerabilities he usually kept buried beneath all the other parts of him.

He leaned back against the wall and felt Wash’s stare on him.

“Is everything okay, Tucker? I mean, besides Junior being sick. You seemed pretty off back there.”

Tucker laughed, the bitterness scratching at his throat and he looked over to see Wash’s eyes widening at the response.

“You mean I seemed ready to kill anyone who talked to me, and then run away with my tail between my legs even though my kid needed to see that fucking doctor?”

Wash didn’t say anything for a long moment, and when he took a step closer, Tucker found he couldn’t look at the sympathy there and still get the necessary words out. He turned his gaze to a blank spot on the wall and focused on keeping his voice low so as not to disturb Junior when he spoke again.

“I know it’s normal,” Tucker said. “I know kids get sick all the time and you don’t need to freak out about it every time. I don’t lose my shit every time Junior gets a cold, or think he’s gonna die just cuz his stomach hurts.”

Wash said nothing, and Tucker allowed himself a quick glance at him. Tucker saw no judgement in his open face, only patience as he waited for Tucker to voice his incoherent thoughts.

“But that’s not what everyone else thinks,” Tucker finally said, and he returned his gaze to the wall. “When it happens to their kids it’s whatever, but when it happens to kids like Junior, they see it as a failure by me. Just one more reason to pity the kid whose parents had him way too fucking young, because obviously I must have given him something shitty or not watched him carefully enough or don’t have the money to give him nice housing because I’m too young to do any of those things without completely fucking him over.”

He looked back at Wash who remained as he had been. “So that’s why I wanted to leave as soon as I saw those other families in there and why I kept being even more of an asshole than I can stand. Well, until you started drawing for Junior. They probably thought Junior was lucky to have such nice brothers or whatever once you started doing that.”

“Tucker,” Wash said, and the gentleness in his tone forced Tucker’s gaze to meet Wash’s. “If there’s one thing I will never doubt about you, it’s that you love Junior more than anything and you would do anything to keep him safe. And if those people spent even five minutes with you and Junior, they’d see that too. You’re a good dad, Tucker.”

A pause filled the air as the sincerity behind Wash’s words robbed Tucker of his ability to speak. They poured down his throat and soothed all the raw wreckage scratching and biting and digging at Tucker’s insides, and Tucker couldn’t speak through that sudden comfort.

“Now whether or not you’re a good person,” Wash continued with a grin, and Tucker shoved his shoulder as some of the suffocating emotion evaporated.

“Way to ruin the moment, asshole.”

Wash just laughed and Tucker tried to ignore how much he had grown to love that sound.

***

York and Carolina sat at the dining room table in Carolina’s house, the Sunday’s afternoon sunlight filtering through the large windows that gave York an ample view of the large backyard. Books and papers were scattered across the surface on York’s side, while across the table all of Carolina’s booklets remained neatly stacked until needed. Carolina frowned at her laptop screen in the meantime, occasionally jotting down a few notes in her notebook while York tried not to fall asleep on top of his textbook.

There had been conversation when York had first arrived, and some interruptions throughout when he gave her an update on how North and South’s family dinner had gone. Apparently there had been some massive arguments, but nobody died and both twins reported they presented a united front the entire time.

“Well, actually,” York had corrected himself. “South’s text message was just ‘I didn’t need the spray bottle’, which I didn’t understand but North said is good so no need to worry about any more fighting between them beyond their usual amount.”

That had been the last interruption, York finally putting his phone away at that point and turning most of his attention toward his books while Carolina turned on her laptop.

“You know, I’m pretty sure you’re going to earn a perfect score at this rate,” York commented a couple hours after mentioning the Dakota twins.

The light outside had faded and the early night of late November already began to creep across the lawn. Carolina glanced up from her laptop to see York pillowing his head on his arms as he stared at her.

“Excellent studying, York,” Carolina replied, and turned her gaze back to the laptop.

“I’m serious, you’ll probably get bonus points and everything.”

“There are no bonus points.”

“Not yet, maybe. But the second they grade your exam, they’ll have to add some.”

Carolina shook her head without looking up, but his confidence tugged at the corner of her lips. “You know it’s true.”

“I know you’re a dork,” Carolina told him, and she heard the grin in his next reply.

“Sure, sure. Just don’t forget us little people when you’re in another province kicking ass.”

Carolina didn’t need to look at his face to see the hints of worry beneath his teasing, but she did anyways. The grin still stretched across his face, but he couldn’t force that cheer to fill his gaze completely.

He might act over the top about it in Carolina’s opinion, but she knew he genuinely believed everyone in the RCMP would respect her and she would excel there. She knew he wondered how quickly she might move on once she found a new community two provinces over, especially when the two of them still skirted the edge of something more than friendship and made no move to cross that boundary.

“Given all the forms of social media, I really doubt I could forget all of you even if I wanted to,” Carolina said dryly. “And something tells me none of you would let that happen anyways.”

“We’d be lost without our favourite deck supervisor,” York told her, and she saw some of that worry fade away with her teasing. “Can’t blame me for not wanting to let go of her.”

She stared and watched realization dawn on his face after a second of silence.

“Us,” he said hastily, “Can’t blame _us_ for not wanting to let you go.”

She let the comment slide with a small smile before they fell back into studying. Well, Carolina studied and York alternated between closing his eyes and reading a few pages of his textbook. When a timer went off on York’s phone, he informed her that meant they needed to take a study break.

“You’ve already been taking breaks,” Carolina pointed out.

“Yeah, but you haven’t. I was just using the plural version to make you feel better.”

“How’d that work out for you?” Carolina asked as she leaned back in her chair to stretch her arms above her head.

“Well that depends, are you going to take a break?”

“One more question,” Carolina said, scrolling down to the final question on her practice exam. “Then we can have dinner. Even order pizza if you want.”

“The Director not home for dinner tonight?”

“No.”

“Church?” York asked, knowing Church didn’t have a set schedule for visiting Carolina’s home and could always be counted as a possibility because of it.

“He’s with Tex tonight.”

“Hey!”

Carolina jolted at York’s sudden exclamation. She quickly saved her answer, and then shut her laptop as she looked back up at York’s grinning face. “You said her name without looking pissed off!”

Carolina stared at him.

“What?”

“You didn’t even frown!”

Carolina opened her mouth, but no words came out and she didn’t feel the urge to snap at the mention of Tex. If she was being honest with herself, it had been awhile since the mention of Tex caused her to stiffen and the familiar bitterness to twist inside her chest as it had during the summer and the fall.

“She’s not a monster,” Carolina finally managed to get out, unable to keep the stiffness from her voice. York’s grin only grew.

“Next thing you know, the two of you will be Skyping while you’re in Regina.”

“Order your damn pizza,” Carolina replied.

He dropped the subject and grabbed the phone she handed him, but not before offering her one last grin that no amount of distance could make her forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Doyle was just really really bored at work).
> 
> EDIT: There is now an awesome comic for this part! http://strategos-six.tumblr.com/post/129011882050/if-theres-one-thing-i-will-never-doubt-about 
> 
> I swear, the first time I ever realized growing up might not be such a good thing is when my mom told me you didn't get pain meds for fever-based earaches past a certain age. 
> 
> Thank you again for all your comments and kudos!!


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is there a problem, Texas?” a man said from behind Epsilon, and he turned to see the Director standing there. Epsilon took a step closer to Tex instinctively when the man glanced at him.

The Blues and Reds played again the week after they had a match against Doyle’s game. They lost that week but none of them seemed overly surprised, and none but Sarge upset. Most of his ire remained directed at Grif, the two Reds dissolving into their usual bickering while Wash went over everything they had done well and what they could work on next practice.

Overall, Wash thought things were both improving and falling into a regular pattern he finally felt comfortable with. Slipping into the Reds and Blues’ lives no longer felt like the stubborn intrusion it had been at the very start of that semester, and he could enjoy their company as much as he could the presence of the other lifeguards.

A lot of that, he would concede, had to do with Tucker. The player continued to show up regularly to Wash’s house to teach Wash how to cook and simply to hang-out, bringing Junior along on the weekends. When Junior came, the cats would show themselves quickly, but even Tucker enacted a gravitational pull on them to rival Connie and Maine’s.

Sometimes Wash went to Tucker’s own tiny apartment instead, Tucker and Church often needling Wash into playing a round or two on their game consoles before responsibility called him away for the night. The two roommates spent half their time arguing and insulting each other, yet they were also quick to team up against Wash with identical grins. Sometimes Caboose or Tex would be there as well, and Caboose’s presence always meant an increase in the apartment’s noise and Junior’s energy.

Tex, in contrast, slipped in and out of the spaces left between the two guys without causing so much as a ripple in the comfortable atmosphere.Wash knew Tucker and Church had known each other longer than they had known her or she them, yet the way they moved around each other made it seem as if they had all known each other long before university.

They all knew exactly what would rile the other up and what would drag the other back into calmness, Tex lounging on the couch or leaning against the kitchen counters as if she lived in the apartment with them. Whenever Tucker and Wash left Tucker’s room and found Tex suddenly there, Tucker didn’t even blink, just grabbed a spot on the couch beside her. And Junior showed no hesitation when trying to climb into either Tex or Church’s laps.

When Wash had asked Tucker that Friday if it had always been like that, Tucker had just shrugged and said when Church and Tex weren’t on a break or having an extended fight, he just never questioned her presence.

“I mean, it’s like that with all the Reds and Blues,” Tucker said, glancing over at Wash with a puzzled expression as if such an answer should be obvious. “Well, those of us who have our own place. They wanna chill, they show up, piss the fuck out of each other, and then do again it the next day.”

“True,” Wash said, before Tucker commented about nobody questioning his regular presence at Tucker’s apartment anymore. Wash had startled a little at that before realizing the truth of the statement.

Without ever being fully aware of his exact method, Wash had managed to carve out a nook for himself right in the middle of the chaotic group the Reds and Blues had tangled together.

The thought stayed with him the next day, though the chaos of the morning lessons pushed it to the back of his mind for most of it. The lesson Wash helped York with was no exception, the children possessing energy that could barely be contained even with two of them there.

“Okay, everyone, it’s time to get out,” York called to all the children standing in the shallow end of the pool. “Good work, we’ll see you next week for the last lesson.”

The children erupted into chatter all at once. York kept a firm hand on the wildest child and followed Wash as he herded the rest of the children up the stairs.Parents waited with towels on deck, calling the names of the children who were more reluctant to leave the water. Tucker waited with a frog towel ready, and offered Wash a smile when their gazes met.

Junior was one of the last to climb out, whispering a quick thanks to both Wash and York before running over to his dad.

“You did awesome today, Junior!” Tucker told him loudly the moment his son reached him.

Wash watched Tucker offer an open palm to Junior who eagerly high-fived it as hard as he could. Junior giggled when Tucker wrapped him in the towel and then hoisted him high into his arms. Father and son grinned at each other while Junior happily told Tucker about the lesson and Tucker began heading to the benches. Wash couldn’t have suppressed the fond smile that stretched across his face as he watched the two even if he had tried.

“Oh, dude,” York’s voice drew Wash’s attention.He glanced over at his friend who just shook his head. “You are so fucked.”

***

Epsilon got lucky.

He had no plan for sneaking into the office of Tex’s boss at the pool. He only had the assumption that the man would have to leave the room at some point, maybe to get food or speak with a patron, and leave the door unlocked.

Epsilon didn’t have a specific day or time in mind either for when he wanted to sneak in. He just knew he needed to; he had printed the picture of the man setting the fire and shoved it deep in his desk while he thought of what to do. Since then, he had seen the man who set the fire speak with the boss of all the lifeguards–the Director, Sigma called him–with the same confident posture and calculating look he often saw in Marc and Luke when they were planning something nasty for another kid or Epsilon.

They hadn’t noticed Epsilon watching, just as the Director hadn’t noticed Epsilon all the other times Epsilon seen him around the city after the fire. But the more Epsilon had watched them talk and the more Epsilon saw them around, the more Epsilon thought the Director knew exactly how the fire started.

So Epsilon needed more pictures and the best place to get ones that were worthwhile would surely be those in the lair of the man himself. When Ms. Kimball took them to recreational swims and when they were at the pool for lessons, Epsilon watched the door of the Director’s office and hoped he would get a chance eventually.

On Saturday, five minutes after his lesson with Wash, Epsilon saw the Director leave his office. He disappeared into the guardroom and then out into the hallway. Epsilon waited a minute before creeping over and slipping inside the unlocked room.

The door slid shut behind him, and Epsilon leaned against the door for a few seconds as his heartbeat slowed and he took in the room around him. It was a pretty boring place from Epsilon’s point of view.

A desk with piles of neatly stacked folders and a computer on top of it sat in the middle of the small room. There were half-empty bookshelves shoved against the grey wall opposite the door, and a large fax machine beside that. The room held no decoration of any sort; no plants or paintings or anything else hanging on the bland walls.

There was a small window on the wall to Epsilon’s right that allowed a glimpse of the pool deck. Epsilon carefully avoided moving in front of it as he headed to the computer at the desk. In books and movies and the news, they were always talking about evidence found on computers and how even government computers could be hacked much to the dismay of the public. Epsilon didn’t know how to hack a computer, but he could hope the Director didn’t always lock it every time he stepped out of the room.

A silent phone rested beside the computer, but Epsilon’s gaze went to the computer screen instantly.

Epsilon nearly did a silent fist bump when he saw the computer’s Documents tab was already open and there were two folders available. Epsilon glanced up to see the folder currently open was titled “Lessons Fall 2015” and the subfolders labelled “group” and “private”.

He was in private lessons, and so were all the kids at Ms. Kimball’s. He felt excitement prickle through him as he clicked on the folder and the names of several documents loaded on screen. They were all labeled with numbers he assumed were course codes, and he clicked on the first one. An unfamiliar name sat on the top of the sheet, so Epsilon quickly closed it. The next one held the same results, but Epsilon simply moved onto the next one. After spending long minutes attempting to capture the perfect picture, clicking through several documents did nothing to trigger his impatience.

Finally, he found one that had Theta’s name on it. Straightening in his eagerness, Epsilon opened up the next several documents at once and found all of them were for the children Ms. Kimball babysat. He quickly went to his and began scanning all the information on it. It didn’t take long for him to realize there wasn’t anything very sinister about the information on it, items such as his gender, age, health concerns, and parents’ contact information filling the page.

Still, his fingers itched for his camera, and Epsilon took out his phone to take shots of all of the children’s sheets. Then he glanced at all the other folders he could open. He felt his thoughts spin and grind to a halt at the sheer number of folders on the computer and his uncertainty as to what he should really be looking for. They always made it seem so much easier in the movies, and while Epsilon had known an obviously incriminating document wouldn’t just be sitting on the screen, he thought it would be a little more obvious as to what to look for.

Seconds ticked by as Epsilon tried to think of what to do when he thought he heard the muffled sound of a voice outside the office. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door opening and he instinctively dropped down behind the desk. A few seconds ticked by in silence before he heard,

“What are you doing, Epsilon?”

“Tex?” Epsilon asked, and slowly straightened from his hiding place.

He couldn’t stop his heart from speeding up as it did every time she said his name. The sight of her standing in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest and long blonde hair pulled back into an immaculate ponytail only made his heart beat even faster.

He moved a little closer to her and his escape route as she waited for his answer.

“I was just looking,” he said.

He saw the way she watched him slip his phone in his pocket before her gaze flickered back up to his red face. She didn’t press him with words, just kept staring at him and he felt his words tangle on his tongue. Wash had said she never lied, and Wash himself always acted so eagerly genuine around Epsilon that Epsilon figured it must be true. And Epsilon had seen the way she shut down the rude patron, so surely she would be able to take down the man who’d set the fire.

Yet Epsilon still found the words he wanted to say snagging in his throat and hacking at each other until no coherency remained. For the picture he had of the fire wasn’t nearly as good as the other one he had shown her, and it was his word against everyone else’s.

“I was just curious,” Epsilon stammered. “And I keep seeing your boss, and I thought since I’ve never been in here maybe there’d be something–that always happens in movies and books–so I thought maybe I’d get lucky and–”

Tex glanced over her shoulder, and before Epsilon could get another word out, she wrapped her hand around his thin wrist. Epsilon stumbled as she yanked him out of the room and into the hallway. The door swung shut behind them, and she pulled at Epsilon until he stood directly in  
front of her. She released him before his brain could fully register and celebrate the contact.

“Is there a problem, Texas?” a man said from behind Epsilon, and he turned to see the Director standing there. Epsilon took a step closer to Tex instinctively when the man glanced at him.

“No, he was just asking about the slide rules,” Tex replied smoothly. “He’s got it now.”

“Yeah,” Epsilon managed to get out despite the coldness in the Director’s eyes. Epsilon glanced once more at Tex who simply inclined her head, and then he started to head back to the others.

“Hey, kid.” Epsilon turned at Tex’s call. “Just remember, movies and reality are a lot different.”

He wanted to snap back that he knew that for the most part, and he had managed to gain something, but he spotted the warning in her eyes long before the words could tickle at his throat. Her boss still stood there too, and Tex drew his attention to her within seconds when  
Epsilon didn’t reply. Epsilon watched her for a second longer and then hurried back to the other children while brushing his fingers against the reassuring solidness of his phone.

He thought about how uneasy the gaze of the Director made him feel, and right as Theta began calling for him, Epsilon realized he might be completely in over his head.

***

When Tucker arrived at Wash’s apartment on Tuesday for another cooking session, Wash said he wanted to make lasagna. Cooking sessions were happening a couple times a week at that point, Junior present whenever they had them on the weekend, and Tucker agreed easily enough to the dish. They went together to the grocery store to buy the appropriate items needed as they had several times before, and Tucker attempted to ignore the memory of Church commenting about how fucking domestic the whole thing was.

“So, any particular reason you want to make lasagna?” Tucker asked when they finally returned to Wash’s apartment.

Wash stopped briefly in the doorway to squint suspiciously at the clouds in the cold sky while Tucker tried not to roll his eyes at just how much Wash hated even the possibility of snow.

“Maine requested it,” Wash said as they entered his apartment. Tucker took the grocery bags to the kitchen and Wash locked the door behind them. “I told you he’s going away, right?”

“Yeah,” Tucker said, and bent down to give Furbomb a pat on the head where he lay on the kitchen floor. The big cat opened one eye at Tucker slowly and then shut it again after only a second. “To Europe to see his grandparents cuz he’s done undergrad after this semester, right?”

“Yeah. So we’re having a little going away thing for him tonight, and watching the hockey game together. Connie’s coming, too, and Maine requested lasagna. And I figured it was big enough for all of us.”

“Oh okay,” Tucker said, and straightened when Wash entered the kitchen. “Is there a certain time you want me to leave then?”

“No no,” Wash said quickly. He began to take out the tray they would need while Tucker unpacked the groceries. “We wanted you to stay, if you wanted to.”

“But,” Tucker stopped, for he couldn’t very well say Wash was one of the few people whose generosity he didn’t want to accidentally overstep. He tried to ignore the strange look Wash gave him, but couldn’t come up with a further reply before Wash cut in.

“Weren’t you the one who said Reds and Blues just show up to chill whenever?” Wash said, careful to make the teasing tone in his voice obvious. 

“Well sure, but I’m not that much of an asshole that I’d ruin some going away party you’re having with your best friends.”

“Tucker, they _wanted_ you to come. Maine even said he wasn’t going to eat my cooking unless he knew you supervised it because of all the other times I’ve tried and made something inedible.”

Tucker snorted at that, and Wash smiled. “Besides, he’s only going away for long vacation with his family. It’s really just going to be one of our typical hockey night hang-outs, but just being a little nicer to Maine since he’ll be gone for a bit.”

“Alright alright,” Tucker said, and leaned against the counter. “I was just gonna procrastinate on my homework at home anyways.”

Wash laughed, and Tucker felt any of his hesitancy over staying vanish within seconds of hearing the first notes of Wash’s laugh. Without any further distractions they began to make the dish, Tucker pulling up a recipe online for them to double-check with. Tucker put on one of the playlists he’d made for Wash at the same time, receiving one of the biggest eye rolls he had yet to get from Wash when the first song on it was the theme song for the first live action Spiderman movie. But Wash was smiling after only ten seconds, so Tucker counted it as a success.

Time passed, the playlist kept pumping out music, and the two of them continued to make the lasagna. Just like all the cooking sessions before, neither were able to keep themselves from interjecting teasing remarks amidst the actual cooking. The cats wandered in on occasion, the two gave each other updates on their lives, and Tucker found any stress draining away in the comfort of Wash’s presence.

But as much as Tucker loved just being near Wash, it was getting so hard to ignore how he wanted _more_. Instead of fading, his feelings for Wash had only gotten stronger over the past weeks, and the sensation grew even harder to ignore in the close quarters of the kitchen with Wash laughing.

Instead of just listening to that laugh, he wanted to learn all of the sounds Wash could make. He wanted to kiss Wash’s smile instead of just staring at it, or follow his teasing remark about the sauce on Wash’s face with a kiss to that spot. He wanted to be able to touch Wash everywhere, wrap his arms around him from behind and make Wash roll his eyes at him that way rather than celebrate the accidental brushes of their bodies when they bumped into each other. He wanted Wash to pin him against the wall and make-out with him until only the smell of burning food could pull them apart.  

And when they were done making the food and actually eating it, he wanted to be able to hold Wash’s hand or tangle their legs together under the surface of the table.

Tucker wanted so much more than what he could have from within the bounds of friendship he’d confined himself to. And despite just how disastrous the results could be, Tucker found himself more and more tempted to risk asking Wash out the more he smiled at Tucker.

“Tucker,” Wash said, and Tucker blinked.

“Huh?” Tucker said, and Wash rolled his eyes.

“I asked if this was alright,” Wash said, and gestured toward the counter.

Tucker moved toward the counter and glanced quickly at the uncertain expression Wash gave the food. Tucker wanted to swear in frustration over the irony in how his growing ability to read Wash’s expression and all the stress he tried to hide did nothing to help Tucker figure out if Wash would be agreeable to dating. He didn’t know if his own sentiments were causing the lack of clarity, but either way, his lack of knowledge about Wash’s view was the biggest deterrent to Tucker trying to step beyond friendship.

The lasagna drew Tucker away from his thoughts once more, though, and soon it was time to put the lasagna in the oven. They heard a knock at the door only a few moments later, and Maine stood in the entrance way when Wash opened the door.

He stepped inside while quickly signing something to Wash. When he caught sight of Tucker standing in the kitchen doorway, he nodded his head and then signed something else to Wash.

“Yup, we just put it in,” Wash told him. “And Tucker can assure you he was supervising me the whole time so it will taste good.”

“Hell yeah it will,” Tucker said, stepping into the living room where they all stood. Furbomb brushed past Tucker’s legs and headed straight for Maine, who picked the large cat up without hesitation. “My presence in the kitchen alone is enough to make any food taste fucking amazing.”

Maine smiled slightly at that, and Tucker couldn’t help asking about his allergies given his current hold on Furbomb.

“He can hold them for a bit,” Wash replied for him, and then glanced at Maine. “I made sure to vacuum last night so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

Maine nodded and then put Furbomb down. The three took a seat on the couch and Maine took out his notebook and pen when Tucker began to talk. Wash grabbed his laptop from the kitchen counter to turn off the playlist so they could turn on the TV. The game began at seven, and ten minutes before it was due to start, they heard another knock on the door.

Both Maine and Wash got up to answer it while Tucker simply twisted in his seat on the couch. The door opened and Tucker heard a familiar girl’s voice apologizing for being late and something about Chris needing to study, but couldn’t catch a glimpse with Maine standing in the way. Tucker watched arms wrap around Wash’s waist and then Maine’s before the two guys parted so Tucker could finally see the last arrival.

“And you’re Tucker,” Connie said with a smile as she stepped toward the couch.

She looked unchanged from the time Tucker saw her months ago in the pool hallway, except that her brown hair hung loose rather than tied back. Despite the cold outside, there were rips in her jeans and she wore nothing but a tight t-shirt under her jacket. “Your friend ever find those goggles?”

“ _That’s_ why you remember me?” Tucker replied. He didn’t get up from the couch, but he rested his chin on the arms he put on the back of the couch so he could look directly at Connie. “Nothing about my amazing good looks?”

She laughed.

“So you really will flirt with anything that moves?”

“Yes,” Wash said. Tucker couldn’t read the look Connie sent him at the strain in Wash’s voice, simply assuming the strain was a sign of his exasperation.

“Hey, I’m a lover, not a prude,”Tucker said with a shrug. He glanced at Wash. “So did Wash tell you about all my other awesome qualities?”

Wash rolled his eyes, but returned to the seat beside Tucker on the couch.

“Oh you know him,” Connie teased. “Biggest gossip of the group.”

“I believe that position has already been taken by you,” Wash responded dryly, and Tucker stared at her as the girl just smirked.

“I wouldn’t go _that_ far.”

“Sorry, I forgot you and South share the position.”

“Better,” Connie said, smirk slipping into a grin.

With the food still needing about half an hour and the game beginning, the others all took a seat on the couch. With four people, the sitting became a bit crammed but nobody suggested moving so Tucker didn’t either. Tucker and Connie got the outsides while Maine sat on Connie’s left and Wash on Maine’s left. Tucker once more found himself pressed against Wash’s side, but he resolved to not freak out and simply enjoy the close contact while he could.

Wash grew more excited as the game began, and it didn’t take long for both him and Connie to start shouting at the television screen. Tucker stared at little at them both before asking Wash,

“How come you never get as excited for our water polo games?”

“Trust me, you don’t want him to get that excited,” Connie replied with a grin. “They’d probably kick him out for being too loud.”

Maine quickly scribbled on his notepad and held it up.

 _You’re_ both _too loud_ , it read.

Connie just waved her hand and then poked him in the shoulder.

“You get just as excited as the rest of us,” she said, and he just shook his head at her with a smile.

The food came out of the oven a few minutes later and everyone thought it turned out well. Maine simply wrote, _good,_ when asked how it was, but he inhaled about three large slices before slowing down so Tucker counted it as a success. Both Tucker and Wash grinned at each other when the other two complimented it, and neither Maine’s head shake nor Connie’s amused smile could dim Tucker’s joy.

Tucker and Connie got along more and more as the night wore on until Tucker declared the girl to be a kindred spirit. Most of it stemmed from the girl’s willingness to tease both Wash and Maine alongside Tucker without any mercy. She also took no issue with sprawling on either boy; dangling her legs over Maine’s shoulders while she sat on the back of the couch as if he was going to give her a piggy back, and giving Wash one of the best noogies Tucker had ever seen in revenge for a comment he made. When the Leafs took the lead, Maine actually did give Connie a piggyback ride all around the room while Wash laughed at Tucker’s side. Connie grinned, and gave both of them a high five as Maine did a lap around the couch.

The only issue Tucker had was the fact that Connie didn’t have a Facebook which Tucker had thought impossible for anyone their age.

“Oh come on, you have to admit the newsfeed is annoying as fuck,” Connie argued when Tucker spoke up.

“Sure, but you don’t have to go on that part.”

“What else would I need it for then?”

“Uh, messaging? Like when you’re good buddy over here is out of the country and can’t use his phone. And I dunno, work events probably.”

“Wash or Maine always just passed along that information,” Connie replied. “And I have Skype for out of the country messaging. Not that Maine will be using it much anyways. His grandparents have spotty Wifi at best, and they want it to be a break from all the stressors of home.”

Connie put air quotations around her the last part of her final sentence, and Tucker couldn’t tell if Maine rolled his eyes because of her or because that was really want his relatives had said.

The night continued on in much the same manner. All of the shouting kept most of the cats away, although Mimi appeared just once and Connie leapt off the couch to go pet her as soon as she spotted the cat. Wash got out the bags of chips he had bought at the grocery store for them, and all were gone by the time the game ended. Nobody moved from the couch after the game ended though, and Tucker watched how attuned to each other the three of them were.

Yet every time Tucker felt incapable of entering their bubble of conversation or thought he should simply leave the three to their own devices, Wash found a way to pull him back into the action.

When the time came for Tucker to leave, all three stood up to say goodbye at the door.

“It was great to finally meet you outside the pool,” Connie said, waiting for the other two to say their partings before bouncing up to Tucker.

She wrapped her arms around him for a quick hug before Tucker could reply to her comment. Something brushed against his hand as she began to slowly pull away, and Tucker opened his hand instinctively at the touch. It took another second for Connie’s hand to press a slip of paper against his palm, and half a second for Tucker’s fingers to curl securely around the piece.

Connie pulled away with a bright smile, gaze staying on Tucker’s face rather than his hand, and not a single word about the paper slipped from her mouth.

“Yeah, glad I got to see you in something even hotter than a lifeguard uniform,” Tucker got out, and he heard Wash groan at Connie’s shoulder. But the comment kept Wash from looking too closely at anything beyond Tucker’s grin, and Tucker saw a knowing smirk on Connie’s face.

Tucker left the apartment a moment later with a wave, and he shivered for a second in the cold of the nighttime air. He hurried to his bus stop, having resisted Wash’s offer to drive him home that night since Maine and Connie were staying over. Wash had tried to bring it up again right before his departure, but Connie’s teasing about Wash’s clinginess combined with Tucker’s refusal finally got him to drop it with a red face.

Only once Tucker reached his bus stop and stood beneath the streetlight at the shelter did he take out the paper Connie had given him. He carefully unfolded the scrap of paper and then felt his breath catch when he read the single sentence written in block letters.

_I HOPE YOU REALIZE JUST HOW MUCH WASH LIKES YOU._

***

“Fucking fantastic,” South said from where she leaned back in one of the plastic chairs. “The day I actually have goddamn homework I need to do after work is the day the slowest changer in the world decides to swim at night.”

Carolina spared the other lifeguard a single glance from where she sat at the computer in the guardroom. She looked over at the pool deck where Florida stood watching the last lane swimmer. The clock hanging on the wall read ten pm a second later, and the woman began to slowly climb out of the pool once Florida told her it was closing time.

“She always takes the longest fucking showers too,” South continued, and Carolina wondered if she complained so much when she worked the shift with Tex. “Which makes no sense, because she’s shown Florida pictures of the big ass house she owns and the showers here are fucking gross, unless of course you _like_ getting foot fungus.”

“If someone were to actually get foot fungus, you would be out of a job,” Carolina simply replied, and picked up her phone when she received a message from York.

Florida came into the guardroom with a cheerful smile a moment later. He waved goodbye to the girls seconds later, wishing them a goodnight while South grumbled about being on close. Carolina just ignored her complaints and got her to go check the family change room while they waited for the lady to finish in the women’s.

Carolina had South do a walk around of the pool deck and the other change rooms while she went up to the front desk to secure everything for the night. The patron exited while she was up there, and Carolina offered her a polite smile as she walked out into the night.

A few minutes later when Carolina finished at the front and started to head back to where South was, she heard the distant sound of voices. The loud noises of male voices drifted through the partially open door, but Carolina didn’t stop as people were always walking through the park the pool backed onto at night.

Then she heard the sound of a bottle shattering right beside the door, and she stopped midstride. She turned toward the door and listened to the way the male voices had grown even louder with their proximity. They didn’t sound like they were moving away either, and Carolina spared the phone on the front desk a single glance before heading toward the door leading to the parking lot.

Snow had yet to fall, but the chill of the outside air promised it soon would. Carolina glanced down as she pushed the door open and spotted the shards of a beer bottle shining in the dim light of the lights along the building’s wall. There weren’t very many lights and they only cast illuminated small patches of the pavement, too small to cover even a quarter of the parking lot.

Carolina looked around and spotted movement in the shadows just on the edge of the circle of light. She took one step away from the door.

“Who’s there?” she called, and someone moved closer.

They had a hood pulled up and their face remained half in the shadows, but she could make out the pale pallor of the man’s skin. He looked a year younger than her, baggy jeans barely covering his boxers, and zipped up sweater on his upper half. Another guy wearing similar clothing moved closer to the first guy, and Carolina caught a glimpse of a lip piercing glinting in the dim light. Both had shaggy brown hair that fell past the fringes of their hoods and into their faces.

“Sup, babe?” the guy with the piercing said, his voice slurring as both of them swayed on their feet.

“Did you guys throw that beer bottle?” she asked, gesturing toward the area without taking her gaze off them.

“Tasted like shit,” was the first guy’s answer as another beer bottle dangled from his fingers.

“But don’t worry, sugar, we got something that tastes out of this world,” the other guy said with a snicker.

They leered at her, and unlike the way Tucker always said crappy pick-up lines, their voices carried the possibility of force and their body language spoke of a resistance to intimidation.

“If you don’t clean it up and leave right now, I will call the police,” Carolina replied calmly, mind going to all the ways the situation reminded her of some examples from her RCMP studying and practice exam.

“Aw come on, girl, let’s have a little fun.”

“We got something that can get that stick right out of your ass.”

“You have five seconds,” she said as they took a step closer, and she felt her heartbeat quicken a fraction.

“This will loosen you up,” the guy on the left said, and he hurled the other beer bottle at her.

She ducked out of the way and heard the bottle smash against the door. Adrenaline rather than fear lit up inside her, and all the background noise and coldness of the air vanished in an instant.

“You fucking idiot, that’s too far,” she heard one of the guys hiss as she straightened, and her hand groped for the handle of the door.

Movement caught her eye, and she began to turn as a fist came flying toward her. The punch caught her shoulder, sending her a step back while her hands came up too quickly for the attacker to track. She had his arm in a tight grip before he could even blink, and a quick pivot sent him crashing against the building wall.

She glanced over at the two other guys, and saw the one holding his friend back as they stared at the guy on the ground. Carolina took a quick step back when the blond haired man on the ground tried to reach out for her, one of her feet crunching on the glass while the other lashed out at the man’s hand.

A crack sounded through the air as her foot made contact with his fingers, and the man screamed. He grabbed at his hand and began to roll away. She felt liquid roll down her ankle and she glanced down to see she had scraped her ankle on one of the upright shards.

“What the fuck?”

South’s shout startled all of them, but when Carolina looked up, the three men were already starting to run. For a moment, Carolina thought South would actually run after them, but the lifeguard just took a couple steps further while shouting,

“You ever show your shitty ass faces here again and I will fucking pound your ugly mugs into the pavement, you hear me, fuckers?”

“South, if a patron hears that we’ll get in as much trouble as them,” Carolina said, crouching down to examine how bad the cut was. She looked up when the tips of South’s flip-flops entered her vision.

“Shit,” South said when she saw the blood rolling down Carolina’s ankle. Carolina watched her gaze flicker from the broken bottles back to Carolina’s cut. “They fucking chucked bottles at you?”

“Apparently they were really drunk,” Carolina replied, and straightened. “Come on, we should call the police and the Director.”

“I’m never gonna finish my goddamn homework,” South muttered, but she stayed at Carolina’s back until Carolina was safely inside the building, and hurried off to grab the first aid kit while Carolina called the police.  

***

Tex expected Carolina to be the most exhausted lifeguard when Tex walked into the guardroom the afternoon after Carolina had been attacked. She was tired herself, having woken up at three am from her phone going off with several messages from Church. Most were random questions and thoughts like, “If Junior started talking in third person only, how long do you think we’d last before losing our minds?” The time stamps were spread out, but she could read the emotions behind the nonsensical ramblings when she knew Carolina had been hurt and Church had gone to stay at the Director’s house for the night due to it.

It had taken Tex three minutes to decide to call him and tell him to play Halo if he didn’t want to sleep, neither bothering to vocally acknowledge the reason he didn’t want to sleep or what the trigger was. She spent the next couple hours playing online with him, listening to him swear over her headset until sleep stole his words.

But it wasn’t Carolina who clutched a caffeinated drink in her hand or slumped in her seat. When Tex walked in the room at half past noon, it was the male lifeguards who looked like they hadn’t slept. Carolina sat at the computer with her usual straight posture and sharp attention on the screen. The only indication of her late night came in the form of an empty thermos by her hand and the few strands of red hair that escaped her ponytail.

North sat curled in one of the corners on the first aid cot, bleary gaze on his phone. He wore the navy blue, lifeguard hoodie they had all bought over the summer over his guard shirt, hood pulled up to cover his messy hair. On the other side of the room, York sat at the desk with a coffee from Timmies and open textbook in front of him. He kept glancing at Carolina every few seconds, and his fingers tapped incessantly on the side of his cup. Neither of the guys looked up at Tex when she entered, York only jerking his gaze toward her when Carolina looked over.

“Everything alright?” Tex asked Carolina instead of commenting on how dead the boys looked.

Tex dropped her bag on the end of the cot and then held up a placating hand when North jolted at the sound. He offered her a slight smile but went back to looking at his phone with a serious expression seconds later. Tex headed over to Carolina as the woman turned fully in her chair, York following the movement without a word.

“All quiet this morning,” Carolina replied, nodding toward the pool deck where Wash stood guarding the lone lane swimmer. “That’s how many people there’s been most of the morning.”

Tex nodded and then leaned against the lockers rather than against the desk where she would block York’s line of sight on Carolina.

“Shoulder and ankle okay?” Tex asked, and Carolina didn’t look at all surprised by the question that spoke of information that hadn’t been in the mass email she sent out about the incident the other night. She didn’t even glare at Tex, though Tex wondered if she was just saving her irritation for her cousin for passing along the information.

“It’s fine,” Carolina replied, rolling both of her shoulders as if to prove the point. Tex glanced down to the white bandage on her ankle and then back up to her neutral expression. “Nothing’s broken or sprained, just a bit of soreness to the shoulder and minor cut on the ankle.”

“South good, North?” Tex asked after a brief pause. She wondered just how long the incident had kept the twins up once South got home, and if South was humouring her brother’s worried messages more than she had after Wyoming got chlorine poisoning.

“Yeah,” North said, question met with silence for a few seconds as North seemed to process the fact that Tex was addressing him. His gaze flickered up from his phone, but his hands remained firmly wrapped around the object. “She’s just pissed off.”

“They didn’t hit her,” Carolina said, and it sounded like something both she and South had told North several times the night before and that morning. “They were starting to run off when she came to check on me.”

“Probably better for them,” Tex said. “If you didn’t beat the shit out of them, South would have been more than happy to. The police have anything on them?”

“No, it was pretty dark so I didn’t get the best look at them. They looked like your stereotypical, grade A, white douchebags.”

“Great,” Tex muttered.

She didn’t move from where she stood, crossing her arms over her chest as Carolina went back to the computer and York went back to watching her. Tex had forwarded Carolina’s email to Connie as soon as she got it so the other girl would know the latest news from the pool. Both of the girls knew the incident could have been completely unrelated to all the other events the Director and the Counselor had orchestrated, but neither were counting out the possibility. But without getting a hold of those boys who had done it, or checking the Directors’ emails from that week, they couldn’t prove there was a connection let alone that the Director had been the one to cause the event.

“You good if I clock out now?” Carolina asked a moment later. “I just finished writing the report about this morning and I need to get to class early.”

“Go ahead,” Tex said with a wave of her hand. “Save yourself from the lack of excitement.”

Tex thought she saw the shadow of a smile at that, and then Carolina climbed to her feet. Not a single shred of pain showed in her body posture as she walked, and Tex wondered if she was on pain medication or if there really was no pain.

Carolina grabbed her bag from her locker while Tex took a seat at the computer and began to scan the morning’s report.

“You leaving now too, North?” Carolina asked, and he looked up slowly.

“Yeah,” he said, and then pushed himself to the edge of the cot. His voice grew more firm as the next few words tumbled from his mouth. “Yeah, I’m gonna meet South at the café before her shift and my classes.”

North got off the cot and began to grab his bag while Carolina waited. Tex studied York as he watched Carolina, both York and Wash’s shift ending half an hour later than North’s.

“I’ll see you tonight?” York asked Carolina when North was ready to go, York’s voice quieter than Tex had ever heard it before.

“Be there at five,” Carolina assured him, and Tex knew the gentleness in her voice was reserved for York only.

Then she and North were out the door, and York watched them go. His gaze didn’t move from the closed door even when they could no longer hear their voices, and Tex glanced down at the fist clenched on his knee. She thought of the text message Connie had sent her earlier that morning, and of frustration and desperation she could _hear_ in it despite the text based medium of communication.

She thought about the way Connie had wondered that morning if it was possible for them to do anything more on their own, or if they had finally reached a point where they needed more people to make any further progress. 

“York,” Tex said, and he twisted toward her with a frown. “We need to talk.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, but Tex cut him off before he could open his mouth and glanced at the clock. “Not now. Go take Wash off. But after you see Carolina tonight, come over to my place. Doesn’t matter how late.”

He stared at her and she didn’t look away for even a second. “Connie and I need to tell you something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't know how to do links, but I received some amazing art for this chapter that you can find here: http://sicknastyphresh.tumblr.com/post/126454127532/so-i-read-the-new-chapter-of-of-lifeguards-and
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bored yet?” Gamma questioned, and Sigma wondered when eleven year olds had become so smug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received some amazing art for the last chapter that you can all find here: http://sicknastyphresh.tumblr.com/post/126454127532/so-i-read-the-new-chapter-of-of-lifeguards-and

Sigma sat at the dining room table in Ms. Kimball’s house on Thursday night. He bent over his pages of homework, occasionally frowning at a question, but mostly wearing his usual neutral expression. Only he sat at the table, for Omega had gone to a friend’s that night and all of the younger children finished their small amounts of homework before dinner.  

Every so often Sigma heard one of their voices from the living room where the TV was. A narrow, wooden staircase separated the dining room from the living room, though a doorway from the dining room led to the front hall and another to the kitchen where Ms. Kimball cleaned the dishes from that night’s dinner. She had poked her head into the room five minutes earlier to ask if it was going alright before he waved her and Andersmith away. She had ducked back into the room with a small smile while Andersmith checked to make sure the light above the table was on its highest setting before he left.

A pale hand suddenly entered Sigma’s vision, and he blinked at the fingers spread across his notebook page before glancing up at Gamma’s face. The small boy stood at the corner of the table by Sigma’s chair, specks of Alfredo sauce still on his fingers despite Ms. Kimball’s instructions for them to all wash their hands after dinner.

“I’m bored,” Gamma told Sigma.

“I’m doing my homework,” Sigma replied. He glanced at the kitchen doorway, but the lights had gone out and Sigma heard footsteps above their heads a second later.

“Aren’t you bored?” Gamma asked, lifting at one of the pages of Sigma’s notebook. “You always say math is the most boring.”

“Yeah, but it’s still homework. My teacher got mad last week about it and I don’t need my parents calling Ms. Kimball again.”

Sigma leaned back and stretched his arms above him. If he leaned back far enough, he might be able to reach all the pictures of the ocean and lakes Ms. Kimball had hanging on the tanwalls. The one in the middle, Sigma knew, was a picture Epsilon had taken for her recently when his parents took him for a Sunday day trip to Lake Huron.

When Sigma looked back to Gamma, the small boy had plopped down onto the light blue carpet.

“Are the others not doing anything fun?” Sigma asked, and Gamma scowled.

“Epsilon kicked me off the PS3,” Gamma complained. “He said I was messing up his scores, but he’s just upset cuz some stupid shisnos broke his phone.”

“How’d you know that?” Sigma asked with a frown. Most of them had overheard Epsilon asking Katie and Ms. Kimball if they could go to the store on the weekend to ask about repairs, but Epsilon had said he dropped the phone. “He said it fell out of his pocket at recess.”

“He’s lying,” Gamma said confidently. He stretched his legs out in front of him and kicked at the legs of the table. “He never lets any of us touch his phone and he always puts it in a zipper pocket. It’d never just drop.”

“He is always super careful with it,” Sigma admitted, and Sigma recalled some of the fights he’d seen boys get into when he was in public school. Boys in his class still scrapped like dogs sometimes, breaking skin and inanimate objects alike in their anger.

“Yeah, and he got in trouble last week cuz he and some other kids were fighting. I heard Ms. Kimball asking him about it.”

Sigma made a noncommittal humming noise and glanced down at his homework, the possibility of Epsilon getting into the occasional scuffle on the playground not surprising once Sigma considered the boy’s endless, smart comments. “So I told him he was just being a big baby about his phone but stupid Eta wanted him to play itso they won the vote.”

Gamma’s tone went sullen at the end, and he gave the table another kick. Sigma sighed as he stared at the remainder of his homework questions. Gamma had been right; they all seemed particularly boring and lacking any creativity.

“Bored yet?” Gamma questioned, and Sigma wondered when eleven year olds had become so smug.

Sigma closed his notebook and shoved it across the dark wooden table. The motion caused one of the yellow placemats to slide off the edge and flutter to the floor, but Sigma ignored it. He grabbed the glass of water at his elbow to take a sip and then turned his gaze to the waiting Gamma.

Gamma smiled at Sigma’s expectant expression, and said,

“I know how we can prank Epsilon.”

***

When all of the children Ms. Kimball babysat had to be looked after on Friday night, she took all of them to the pool for the evening recreational swim. Gamma had asked her if they could, and all the younger children latched onto the idea once they heard the suggestion. Epsilon guessed Ms. Kimball agreed because she felt bad they all had to be at her place on Friday night past dinner when such an event was rare and they already spent so much time there. Since he enjoyed the pool just as much as the other children, though, Epsilon didn’t feel shame burning his throat like he usually did when he received someone’s pity.

He even had a chance to talk with Tex again while he was at the pool. Epsilon had yet to tell her or Wash about the fire, though he had spent the days since sneaking into the Director’s office trying to do even more independent sleuthing and figure out if the two lifeguards would believe him.

Though he had made up his mind to tell them, he couldn’t do so in the middle of the busy recreational swim. Plus, Epsilon knew he would have time later as he would see Wash the next day for lessons and Wash would be his instructor for the new session of swimming lessons starting after the Christmas break.

So that Friday night at the pool, Epsilon simply focused on interacting with Tex for more than a few minutes.

He sidled up to her while she guarded the shallow end at one point, and then when she guarded from the top of diving board, Epsilon went with Omega to jump off the edge she stood on. Though she reminded both of them that her focus needed to be on the pool, she did speak briefly with them and rated their dives when Omega asked her to. She always rated them lower than what Omega thought they deserved, and Epsilon grinned as she shut down all of the teenager’s arguments for a higher score with merely a glance.

They stayed at the pool for an hour before Ms. Kimball insisted they get home so the twins would be dry and changed when their parents picked them up. Andersmith and Katie helped herd the reluctant children into the change rooms and then back into the cold December air. Within seconds of Ms. Kimball pulling out of the parking lot, they all got into an argument about what was the funniest movie of all time. Their loud voices pressed against Epsilon’s skin, writing over the grief he felt over Marc breaking his phone and leaving invisible indentations of affection and teasing comradeship in its place.

Once they got home, Ms. Kimball agreed to make them all hot chocolate and Katie joined her in the kitchen to help. The children all trooped down to the basement when Theta insisted it would be best to have the drinks in the fort they had made down there.

The fort already consisted of all the extra blankets and pillows Ms. Kimball had, spreading across half of the basement from the brown, faded couch to the tiny square window along the far wall. They were constantly rearranging the layout in new ways to keep the simple task from growing old, and so they all latched onto Theta’s idea easily enough.

Andersmith went with the children, but after they settled in and began to rearrange the blankets on the outside of the fort, he disappeared back upstairs when his phone rang.

“Hey, what’s that, Epsilon?” Theta asked only a moment later, pausing with a blanket in his hand.

Everyone looked over from where they adjusted the fort, the twins poking their heads out from the entrance of it. Epsilon followed Theta’s gaze to where he had tossed his backpack in the corner, the various lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling offering a well-lit view of every nook of the basement. The corner of an envelope poked out from the blue bag, and Epsilon frowned at the new addition to his bag.

He crossed the concrete floor, ignoring the cold that seeped through his grey socks. The outside of the envelope was blank, and he tore it open after a second of hesitation. Theta moved to his side, but Epsilon pushed away his head when the smaller boy tried to read the typed letter.

“Let me see first,” Epsilon told him.

He prodded at the younger boy’s shoulder until he took a few steps back, and one of the light bulb strings tangled in Theta’s curls. Then Epsilon turned his gaze back to the letter addressed to him, and felt his heart start to pound when he saw Tex’s name.

He believed the claim that she had written it for about ten seconds, and then realization slammed into him.

 

 

Kimball heard the shouting fifteen seconds before Delta came running into sight. She had just reached the top of the basement stairs with Katie at her shoulder when Delta nearly crashed into her.

“Help,” he said, for once incapable of providing a logical explanation of what he witnessed.

Delta stepped to the side as Kimball hurried down the stairs. At the bottom of the staircase she drew to such a sudden halt at the picture of chaos before her, Delta slammed right into her back.

Epsilon knelt on top of Gamma as he bit at the hand Epsilon had on the younger boy’s face. Theta cried while clutching at Epsilon’s shoulder in an attempt to drag him off Gamma. Sigma sat on the floor only a few feet away clutching a bloody nose while Omega cheered the fighting boys on. Eta and Iota stood silent and scared to the side of the room, and footsteps pounded on the stairs as Andersmith came running down them.

“You fucking assholes!” Epsilon screamed at Gamma, the hand that wasn’t being bitten by Gamma pounding on Gamma’s exposed shoulder.

A single second passed in which Kimball’s brain remained completely empty in her shock, and then she was moving. She grabbed underneath Epsilon’s armpits and pulled him off Gamma while Theta stumbled back.

“Fucking hate you,” Epsilon yelled, flailing in Kimball’s grip. She could hear Theta crying, and saw Andersmith and Delta moving to comfort him as Katie dashed to Gamma’s side. “Fucking backstabbing, lying–”

“Epsilon!” Kimball shouted over him, and then spun him around to face her. He struggled in her hold, but couldn’t escape the hands she kept on his shoulders. “Epsilon, enough!”

He looked up at her as she bent over so they were eye-level, and she saw hurt rather than rage twist his young face. He shook his head at her again and again, and then his swearing felt quiet as tears started to fall from his eyes.

“Upstairs now,” Kimball said firmly as Epsilon started to cry too hard to get coherent words out. “Gamma and Sigma, I want you two to go sit in the dining room with Andersmith. Katie, take the others into the living room.”

Kimball led Epsilon up to her bedroom while the others moved the children as she requested. When they reached the landing of the second floor, Kimball released Epsilon’s shoulders but kept him in front of her so he couldn’t dash back down to the others.

He stumbled over to her double bed while she turned on the lights. Without any instructions from her, he climbed up onto the blue comforter and then wrapped his arms around his drawn up knees. He didn’t say anything, just buried his wet face in his knees.

“Will you stay here while I go talk to the others?” Kimball asked, and a few seconds passed before he nodded his head.

Kimball left the room and closed the door behind her. She spotted Andersmith coming up the stairs, and he quickly passed on the little information he had gained. Then he went into the room to keep Epsilon company while Kimball went downstairs to ask the other children what happened.

Sigma and Gamma sat at the dining room table silently, a wad of Kleenex pressed to Sigma’s nose. The moment she entered the room, they both leapt to explain the situation at once.

“It was just a joke,” Gamma insisted both at the beginning and the end of his explanation.

“We didn’t think he’d get so upset,” Sigma added, and Kimball couldn’t hear any deceit in his voice.

“Someone’s feelings for someone else should _never_ be part of a joke,” Kimball told them after they explained they had written a fake letter from Tex about Epsilon’s feelings for her and put it in Epsilon’s bag while at the pool. “You took something that was very important to Epsilon–and also a very big secret–and laughed at him for it. That it is bullying and I will not tolerate it.”

She cut them off when they both tried to insist they hadn’t meant for him to be so upset. “It doesn’t matter if you didn’t think it would be that mean, it _was_ mean, and you made Epsilon feel very betrayed and upset.”

“He said he thought we were different,” Sigma said quietly after a few seconds of silence. “But we were actually complete dicks just like everyone else.”

Kimball didn’t reply for a moment, and she thought about everything she had been told this week about the fight Epsilon got into at school and his phone being broken. She remembered Wash’s hesitant questions from weeks ago, and a coherent picture neither of them had considered before started to form in her brain.

“It was just a joke,” Gamma said again, but his voice grew small in the confusion that replaced his earlier defensiveness. Kimball kept her face stern despite the way some of her anger seeped away at his naivety.

“Sometimes jokes can be hurtful,” she told him. “Especially if the punchline of your joke is about a person’s feelings or the way they act. If anyone ever tells you they find your joke hurtful, you need to listen to them and not do it, okay?”

Gamma rubbed the shoulder Epsilon had punched for a moment and then nodded.

“Okay,” he agreed.

“Good.” She climbed to her feet. “Now the two of you are going to sit quietly in separate rooms until your parents come because of what you did. Sigma, take a chair and go to the kitchen, and Gamma, you stay here.”

Gamma stayed where he was and Sigma carried a chair into the kitchen to sit. Then Kimball strode toward the living room, forcing the panic away by focusing only on how to comfort the next child and piece together what had occurred. If she stopped to think about the possible disastrous outcomes, or considered how this could be perceived as yet another failure on her part, she wouldn’t be capable of helping any of the children.

That could not be allowed under any circumstances.

Kimball entered the living room where Katie comforted the remaining children. They all looked up when she entered and all began speaking at once.

“He just started yelling at us–”

“What was in the note?”

“He said he thought we were his friends–”

“I didn’t do anything–”

“He went right for the fucking face–”

“Why was he so mad?”

“Sigma told him it was him and Gamma–”

“He jumped on Gamma so fast–”

“He wouldn’t stop screaming at them–”

“Swore even more than me–”

“We tried to stop him–”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t understand–”

“He said he hated us,” Theta whispered after Kimball held up a hand and the others stopped talking.

Theta sat on the couch between Katie and Delta while Iota sat by his feet and reached up to hold his hand. There were still tears on his face, and it looked like Iota had started crying too, her sister wrapping her arms around Iota’s waist and resting her cheek on Iota’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Omega sat on a cushion on the floor, but even he looked taken aback and quiet now that the fight had ended.

“He was just upset, Theta,” Kimball said as she crossed over to them. Katie scooted out of the way and Kimball took her spot, Theta pressing against Kimball’s side as soon as she sat down. “I promise he doesn’t really hate you.”

“Really?” Theta asked, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Kimball nodded and dried his tears and with the sleeve of her shirt. She glanced over at Omega to give the teenager a warning look given his tendency to tease Theta, and he didn’t even try to open his mouth when she met his gaze.

“Really.”

She looked around at the others.

“Did it scare all of you?”

Everyone except for Omega nodded, and Iota whispered,

“He was really mad.”

“Come here,” Kimball said after a second, and Iota scrambled up into Kimball’s lap.

She clung to Kimball’s neck as Kimball hugged her, and Eta squeezed herself between Katie and Kimball. Omega stayed where he was, but he also didn’t sneer or swear at the others. “Gamma and Sigma played a very mean prank on him. They didn’t mean to hurt him, but they did, and that’s why he got so mad. His feelings were really hurt and I think it made him think you guys aren’t his friends.”

“But we are his friends!” Delta protested, and Eta asked,

“What did he say?”

“I know you are, Delta. And I haven’t talked to him yet, Eta. I wanted to hear if Gamma and Sigma would be honest with me first. I’m going to go talk to him now and I want you guys to stay here, okay? Gamma and Sigma aren’t allowed to play for the rest of the night, though.”

They all agreed and Kimball left them with Katie. Taking one deep breath first to keep hold of her rapidly fading composure, she headed back upstairs to where Epsilon remained with his face pressed to his knees in her bedroom. Andersmith sat beside him, and just shook his head when Kimball entered. He left the room when Kimball nodded toward the stairs, though he gave Epsilon’s still figure one last glance before heading down the stairs.

Kimball took a seat on the edge of the bed beside him and didn’t say anything for a long moment.

“Gamma and Sigma told me what they did,” Kimball said when Epsilon didn’t move or say anything. “It was very, very wrong of them and I told them that.”

Epsilon said something, but his knees muffled the sounds. “What?”

He lifted his head and glared at her.

“I said they’re assholes.”

“It was a really jerk move of them,” Kimball agreed. “I think they understood that after you punched them and I told them it was.”

“Are you punishing them?”

“Yes. I’m going to tell their parents too, and we can go get an apology when you’re ready.”

“Good.”

Epsilon sniffed and slowly stretched out his legs so they dangled over the sides of the bed.

“I know they’re not super nice,” Epsilon said quietly. “Not like Theta or Iota. But I didn’t think–”

He stopped but didn’t continue when Kimball stayed silent and waited for him to. Instead he just clenched at the fabric on top of the bed and stared at her blank wall.

“Epsilon,” she said, careful to keep her tone neutral despite the way the question she needed to ask crushed her lungs. “Did those boys you fought with at school break your phone?”

He didn’t look at her, just kept staring at the wall. Finally, he nodded.

“Do they do stuff like that often?” she asked, even though her throat had gone tight at the gravity of the situation.

Another nod.

“I didn’t think Sigma and Gamma were like them,” Epsilon said, and she felt her chest ache at the way his voice broke.

“I don’t think Gamma and Sigma meant to hurt you,” Kimball said. “Not like that. Do those other boys want to hurt you?”

He nodded once more and Kimball closed her eyes for a brief second. She exhaled slowly to keep the anger she felt toward the bullies from spilling into her voice in case Epsilon thought it was directed at him. She opened her eyes and stared down at the top of Epsilon’s small head.

“Why didn’t you tell your parents about this?” she asked, careful to keep any accusation from her voice.

“They’re already fighting so bad they’re probably gonna get a divorce soon. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Kimball studied his hunched shoulders and wondered how mothers kept their hearts from breaking apart completely when they watched their children go through years of hurt just like Epsilon’s.

“Epsilon,” she began slowly. “You know it’s not your fault if your parents get a divorce, right?”

He simply shrugged in response and Kimball wrapped her arm around his shoulders without a word. He stayed still for a single second, and then he leaned into her side while she squeezed him close.

“None of it is your fault,” she told him.

He didn’t respond, and they sat like that for a long time as the first snow of the winter drifted to the ground outside.

***

When Wash went onto the deck for Epsilon’s last lesson of the session on Saturday morning, the boy leaped out of his seat the second he spotted Wash. He stormed over to Wash before the lifeguard had even taken two steps, and shoved at Wash’s chest once he reached him.

“Epsilon,” Vanessa called, but Wash just waved away her concern. Some of the other children beside her stared at them, but Wash focused all of his attention on Epsilon.

“How could you?” Epsilon hissed at Wash as Wash leaned down to be eye level with the boy. The boy’s eyes were wide with rage, mouth twisted in an expression of acute hurt. “You said you wouldn’t tell! You promised!”

“Whoa, whoa, Epsilon,” Wash said, but the boy continued ranting at him.

“I believed you too. I thought you were one of those stupidly honest people like Theta and you would really never tell anyone and I actually liked you but you told!”

“Told who what, Epsilon?” Wash said, mind racing. He glanced back at the guardroom when he realized what one secret of Epsilon’s he knew. “You mean about Tex? I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Yes you did!”

“I swear I didn’t.” He gestured for Epsilon to follow him, and then led the angry boy over to the equipment room by the diving well where there were even less people. “Who do you think I told?”

“Gamma and Sigma.”

“Why?”

“Cuz they know. They know and they–” Epsilon stopped and Wash stared at the obvious hurt on Epsilon’s small face. The boy glanced down at the pool deck. “They pranked me with it.”

“They–” Wash began, but then stopped himself.

The details of their prank didn’t matter in that moment, despite the protective outrage Epsilon’s pain triggered. Easing some of that hurt and making him understand that Wash at least hadn’t betrayed his secret needed to be the priority. “I’m sorry they did that, Epsilon, that was really cruel of them. But I swear I didn’t tell them. Did they say I did?”

“Well, no,” Epsilon said after a moment of staring at the empty diving well in thought. He shifted his gaze back to Wash’s face.

“Did you ever see them talking to me?”

“No. But maybe you told their teachers and _they_ told them.”

“You can go ask them,” Wash said calmly. “If you need to, you can go ask their teachers and them. But I swear to you, I never told them. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone and I didn’t.”

Epsilon gazed at him, face scrunched up in anger, but doubt breaking through some of that fury. “When you made it clear you didn’t like being touched, I said I wouldn’t do it and I never did again, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Epsilon said, and Wash could see the doubt growing.

Wash didn’t let the little bit of relief the sight caused stop him from pressing the point further, though, and he kept his voice calm as the shouts from other lessons echoed around them. He didn’t want there to be even a sliver of mistrust left after how far they’d come from the first day of lessons.

“And I did the same thing with what you told me about Tex. One of them must of overheard us–maybe they were hiding somewhere nearby?” Wash tried to think of where they had been during the conversation as quickly as he could. “Maybe the benches?”

“Gamma _is_ really weird about going into small places,” Epsilon admitted. “He _likes_ it being cramped cuz no one will come bother him.”

Wash watched Epsilon glance toward the benches and the small gaps that formed underneath where the black support bars were. He turned back to Wash.

“You didn’t tell them?” Epsilon asked.

“I swear on my life and all of my cats’ lives that I never told a soul about it,” Wash promised. Epsilon stared at him for a long moment and Wash kept his face serious despite the way his chest pounded at the thought of Epsilon not believing him.

All at once, Epsilon seemed to deflate as his shoulders slumped and the anger fled from his face.

“I promise I would never do that to you, Epsilon,” Wash assured him when Epsilon didn’t say anything. “It’s my job to teach you and keep you safe while doing it, not hurt you.”

“I thought you wouldn’t,” Epsilon said quietly. “But I didn’t think Gamma or Sigma would do that so I didn’t know–maybe you had lied to me. But I believe you now.”

“Did Gamma and Sigma apologize?”

“Last night,” Epsilon replied. “After Ms. Kimball talked to them and me. She told their parents about it too when they came to pick them up. But I still think they’re dicks.”

“Sounds like they were pretty big jerks,” Wash agreed. “I think you’d be justified in not forgiving them just yet if you don’t feel ready.”

“I’m thinking about it,” Epsilon told him, and Wash offered him a gentle smile.

“Well, you’re allowed to take as much time as you want when it comes to something like that.”

Wash glanced at the clock. “Now, are you okay to go swimming?”

Epsilon nodded, and he grew more relaxed the closer they got to the pool. Wash let him start in the deep end with some dives after how upset he’d been, and then they got started on his front crawl. Wash swam beside Epsilon as the boy swam up and down the pool.

They stopped down in the deep end about ten minutes before the end of the lesson to begin on back crawl. Wash told Epsilon they would start by practicing just his flutter kick on his back since it remained a little weak, and Epsilon nodded. Wash turned around to grab the flutter board that was trying to float away just as Epsilon began to frown.

Wash grabbed the flutter board, tucking it under his arm and then turned back to Epsilon. Instead of seeing Epsilon’s face, Wash’s vision filled with the sight of Epsilon lying face down in the water as the young boy’s body began to convulse.

“Epsilon?”

***

Tucker didn’t talk to Church or any of the Reds and Blues about the note he received from Connie. He knew that if he told Church, his roommate would just roll his eyes and say something about how obvious it was given all the domestic shit they did together. He would tell Tucker to just bone Wash like he normally did with everyone he liked. Kai and Grif would say something similar. Donut would tell him to do something so sentimental that Tucker would feel like gagging, and make Wash think he had been replaced with a doppelganger.

Simmons would just frown and tell him to ask the guy out instead of wasting his time with it. Sarge would tell him to stop bothering him with his high school level drama. Tucker didn’t know Sheila well enough to ask even if she seemed the most sensible out of all of them, he wouldn’t know what the fuck Lopez said, and Caboose–well, Caboose was Caboose.

Tex, he knew, would stare at him in silence until all he wanted to do was run away from her as fast as he could. When he didn’t leave, she would tell him to stop being a baby and ask Wash out. Then probably kick him in the dick for good measure.

In the end, he did decide asking Wash out was he should and wanted to do. The decision came after thinking about Connie’s note until three am and then nearly falling asleep at water polo practice the next day. The only thing that kept him awake was Wash, and Tucker figured that was life’s way of answering his question about whether or not he should ask Wash out.

But before he took the advice he knew his friends would have given him, there was one person he needed to talk to first.

The Friday night before Junior’s last swimming lessons of the session, Tucker sat with him on the couch after they ate their fill of pizza. Church had left earlier to study, and after spending a few hours playing outside on the frozen ground and then trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue when they began to fall, Junior wanted to spend the rest of the night watching a movie while bundled up in blankets. Tucker got out all the pillows they had and the blankets from his bed before spreading out all of the movies they owned on the floor in front of the TV.

“Before we start the movies, I gotta ask you an important question,” Tucker told Junior once they were settled on the couch, and Junior peered up at him from where he sat on Tucker’s right side. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I want you to be totally honest with me, buddy.” Tucker took a deep breath, and forced himself to say the words he’d been mulling over for the past three days. “How would you feel if Wash and I started dating? Would you be okay with that?”

“Like what Mommy and Craig are doing?” Junior asked after a moment.

“Yeah, what Mom and Craig are doing. Go on dates and stuff, and I’d call him my boyfriend. He’d be around a lot more and we’d probably go to his house a lot more. Would you be okay with that?”

“Would you hold hands?” Junior asked, and Tucker smiled at him.

“Yeah, we’d hold hands.”

“And kiss?” Junior’s face scrunched up in disgust at that and Tucker laughed, knowing Junior felt that way about any adult who kissed another on the lips, not just two guys.

“Not in front of you if you don’t want us to.”

“I guess it’s okay if you do it a little bit,” Junior said after a moment of thoughtful silence. “But not as long as Mommy and Craig cuz they go way too long.”

“How long do Mom and Craig kiss for?”

Junior fell quiet again as he considered.

“Seven seconds,” he declared. “You and Wash can do it for five. No, three!”

“Okay okay, got it,” Tucker replied, and he could feel all his worry about his decision drifting away in the face of Junior’s support. “Three seconds of kissing only.”

“You guys will still watch movies with me?” Junior wanted to know, and Tucker ruffled his hair.

“Of course. Wash will probably watch even more movies with us. You’ll get to see Mimi and everyone more too.”

“Every weekend?” Junior’s face lit up at the idea and Tucker laughed again.

“Maybe not every weekend. And I still have to ask him first. He might say no.”

“Why would he say no?” Junior frowned and Tucker pulled him closer. Reassuring warmth bled into Tucker, and he sighed.

“Sometimes people don’t like each other the same way. He might like me as a friend, but not as a boyfriend. That’s why I have to ask him. But I wanted to make sure you were okay with it first.”

“Wash is really smart,” Junior said. “Which means he’ll like you because the only people who don’t like you are dumb people.”

Tucker felt his throat tighten at Junior’s confidence, and he cleared his throat before he spoke again.

“Yeah well, even if he says no, he’s still really smart. And we still gotta be nice to him, kay?”

“Okay.”

After that, Junior kept asking Tucker when he would ask Wash, and Tucker promised he would ask Saturday. So the entire bus ride to the pool on Saturday morning, Tucker kept psyching himself up while Junior held his hand. They got in and changed just in time for Junior’s swimming lesson, and he gave Tucker an extra big hug before Tex led him away.

Tucker took a deep breath as he took a seat on the benches and searched the pool for Wash. Tucker felt his shoulders relax a fraction when he spotted Wash in the middle tank with Epsilon, but his foot kept bouncing up and down with nerves.

 _Just remember the note,_ Tucker kept telling himself.

The note promised a happy ending, but for better or worse, Tucker needed to tell Wash before he went crazy thinking about the unfulfilled possibilities.

Five minutes into Junior’s lesson, a whistle sounded from the middle tank.

Everyone’s gazes went to the pool, and Tucker felt his breath catch in his throat when he realized it came from Wash’s lane. He got to his feet and craned his neck to see Wash grabbing for his face-down student and calling for aid.

A splash sounded to Tucker’s right, and he jerked his gaze to see Tex leaping from the shallow tank and sprinting to Wash’s lane.

“Alright, I need everyone to please exit the pool immediately,” York’s shout came a second later, and the other lifeguards began to herd everyone out of the pool. Everyone kept glancing toward the emergency where Tex now sat on the side with her legs in the water while Wash moved Epsilon toward her.

Tucker moved to the stairs where York led his class out of the water while keeping his eyes on Wash. He only glanced away to grab Junior when his son reached for Tucker’s hand with a scared expression.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Tucker told Junior when his son looked up at him. “Everything will be alright.”

***

Dr. Williams strode into the busy waiting room of the hospital, doors leading to the inner halls of the building swinging shut behind him. A clipboard dangled loosely from his fingers at his side, the information he needed already hovering at the forefront of his mind. It would remain there for the few minutes he needed for the conversation before sinking beneath the weight of the next emergency.

“Parents of Epsilon Alin?” he called. A woman rose from the plastic chairs and headed toward him before he even got the parents’ names out.

“I’m Vanessa Kimball, the babysitter and emergency contact,” the woman introduced herself.

Neither of them offered the other their hand. Anxiety and sickness seeped from every crack of the hospital and left no room for such pleasantries.

“I haven’t been able to get in touch with his parents yet,” she explained, hand tightening around her quiet phone. “Is Epsilon alright?”

For a brief moment, Dr. Williams allowed some of the tension he always carried inside the operating rooms to withdraw inward and out of sight. His shoulders sank an inch, and the façade of an impervious being retracted. His thoughts flashed to his own daughter, and the expression on his face softened.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. We couldn’t save him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.  
> EDIT: There is now amazing art for this chapter: http://sicknastyphresh.tumblr.com/post/126889672792/of-lifeguards-and-water-polo-chapter-30-just


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have two more amazing pieces of art to share with all of you! First is a spectacular drawing of all the AI children my wonderful friend did: http://woah-mako.tumblr.com/post/127190691120/lifeguard-and-waterpolo-rvb-au-character-designs  
> Second is a beautiful piece inspired by the last chapter: http://sicknastyphresh.tumblr.com/post/126889672792/of-lifeguards-and-water-polo-chapter-30-just  
> Excuse me while I go flail about this, you guys are so awesome.

**Saturday, December 9 th, Same Day as Epsilon’s Death**  
  
The moment the paramedics had loaded Epsilon onto the ambulance and driven away with him, Tex grabbed Wash’s wrist and dragged him into the guardroom. Wash went easily, the adrenaline that took over his mind and kept him steady during the emergency already fading and leaving a shaky shock in its place.

“Finish filling out the report we started,” Tex told him. She led him over to the first aid cot and pushed him down onto its edge as if he was the injured patron in need of treatment. “I’ll teach the rest of your lessons. Are your report cards in your folder?”

Wash nodded. Outside the glass windows they could see the rest of the lifeguards slowly getting lessons started again and reassuring confused patrons that the situation had been handled.  The Director had come out of his office to help with crowd control at the very start of the emergency, and they could see him continuing to speak with concerned patrons.

“You gonna be alright?” Tex asked Wash, and he forced himself to meet her gaze as she stood in front of him.

For a brief moment, she allowed concern to flicker in her eyes, and Wash nodded despite the fear already beginning to prick at his skin. Tex’s impenetrable composure returned a second later, and she tapped the papers in front of him.

“Just focus on that until we have any news,” she told him, and then grabbed his attendance sheets from his folder. Once those and the report cards were in her plastic baggie, she left the guardroom.

Wash turned his own attention back to the report, but his focus kept breaking and he glanced up at the still telephone on the desk every thirty seconds. Only ten minutes had passed before the Director entered the guardroom and told Wash it might be better for him to complete the accident report within the Director’s quiet office. Less people knocked on his door, and nobody would be able to send curious glances inside.

Wash followed him into the clean office and then took a seat as he began writing the report again. Time blurred by, and Wash felt an exhausted worry pour into the gaps that adrenaline had previously filled. His fear evolved from small pricks to large jabs that had his breath catching in his tight throat every few minutes. His leg began bouncing up and down as the Director returned to the office and worked on his computer.

Wash didn’t know how much time had passed by the time the phone on the Director’s desk started to ring.

Both of their gazes went to the object, though the Director’s expression remained impassive while he answered it. Wash’s chest felt like it was bruising with the force of his heart’s frantic beating.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” the Director said after a long moment of listening to the person on the other end.

All sound and motion fled from the world for a single, irreversible moment.

“Yes, he’s actually right here. One moment.”

Wash blinked as the Director held out the phone to him. Dread filled his arms with cement, but he slowly took the phone and pressed the receiver to his ear.

“Hello?” he said, surprised at how calm his voice sounded despite the way his insides were already beginning to break apart.

“Hello, Washington? It’s Vanessa. I’m at the hospital where they took Epsilon.”

“Is he okay?” Wash asked, despite what the Director had said and what his own heart whispered.

“No, I’m sorry, they–he’s gone.” Vanessa’s voice cracked once, and Wash listened distantly to the sound of her clearing her throat. His vision retracted into a single, small cone, and suddenly his head felt as if the slightest of motions would cause it to roll right off his shoulders.

“They couldn’t stop the seizures this time,” Vanessa said, and her voice sounded as calm as the first time Wash met her. He wondered briefly if that came from shock, but the thought was a vague, half-formed one that flitted through his brain for only a few seconds. 

“This time,” Wash repeated, the words a flaming brand in his mind.

“Yes, it’s very rare, especially for children with epilepsy, but sometimes the drugs–they just don’t work.”

Wash couldn’t say anything, and he heard Vanessa call his name. Words couldn’t escape his lips because his very thoughts were incapable of forming in the face of the reality he found himself trapped by.

Wash didn’t resist when the Director pried the phone from his loose fingers a moment later, and the motion caused Wash’s gaze to slowly move up to the Director’s impassive face. Incapable of processing the gravity of what he’d been told and desperate not to, his brain latched onto the Director and the new knowledge of Epsilon’s medical condition.

 _They knew_ , Wash thought of the parents and Vanessa as he watched the Director listen to whatever Vanessa told him. They knew Epsilon had epilepsy, and suffered from the seizures that came with it. Which meant they would have told the Director when registering Epsilon for lessons, and the information should have been on the sheet Wash received at the very start of the session.

Except it hadn’t been there which meant–

Wash felt numbness completely overwhelm him and make his body go still. When the Director met his gaze though, his realization must have shown in his wide eyes for understanding flooded the Director’s expression.

“I understand,” the Director said into the phone. “Of course. Once again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

He hung up the phone a second later and Wash found himself incapable of voicing all he needed to.

“I think,” the Director began, “For both the good of your mental health and due to the media frenzy this is going to cause, it would be for the best if you didn’t work for a while.”

The Director stared at him in silence, not even a flicker of emotion in his cold demeanor.

Wash stood up and left without a word.

***

**Saturday, December 9 th, Same Day as Epsilon’s Death **

Tucker texted Wash at night once Junior had been distracted with his toys and Caboose. He leaned against the kitchen counters, fingers hovering over his phone as he tried to give himself the same reassurance he gave Junior at the pool. He couldn’t believe it as easily as Junior though, and he took a deep breath before sending his message.

_Hey, Wash, are you and Epsilon okay?_

None of the lifeguards had been able to give Tucker or any members of the public a definite answer. Kimball had been understandably distracted, and North only gave a brief comment about it looking like seizures but Tex and Wash having it under control. After the incident, Wash had remained out of sight while Tex taught his lessons, and the guard left without anyone seeing him.

When Wash didn’t reply to Tucker’s text message right away, he slipped his phone in his pocket and went into the living room to join Junior and Caboose. Church returned at the same time as Tucker’s phone went off, and Tucker didn’t even catch a glimpse of Church’s tired expression before he was heading into the kitchen to read the message.

 _No,_ Wash’s reply read. _Epsilon had an epileptic attack. He died at the hospital._

Tucker stared at the message.

Blinked.

Stared some more.

From the other room he could hear Junior laughing with Caboose as if nothing about the world had changed. When Tucker looked up from his phone, though, he saw Church standing in the doorway as he stared at Tucker with an exhausted understanding in his eyes.

“You heard?” Tucker finally asked after a few seconds of silence. “About Epsilon?”

“Tex called me,” Church said, and Tucker glanced back down at his phone. Despite the words there that twisted everything into a new reality, Tucker couldn’t feel anything but a detached numbness.

“Jesus Christ,” Tucker said, but the words sounded flat to his own ears.

“You’re probably in shock,” Church just replied, and Tucker looked up at his roommate again. Church shrugged. “It’s not really a thing people just accept right away. The reality of it will probably hit later.”

Tucker wondered if it had taken Church long to accept Allison had died and experience the grief that came with it, or if he had spent days, even weeks, not fully understanding the gravity of the situation.

Church crossed over to the sink while Tucker looked back down at his phone and Wash’s message.

“I don’t know what to say to Wash,” Tucker said while the sound of pouring water filled the kitchen. “Especially over text.”

Using emoticons seemed completely inappropriate, but text alone seemed so apathetic.

“S’not like anything you say is gonna make the situation much better,” Church told him after a gulp of water, and Tucker glared.

“Wow, thanks for the help, asshole.”

“I’m being honest, dumbass. Unless you’re a fucking necromancer and your words are gonna bring Epsilon back, Wash is just gonna feel like shit either way. But since he does like you, letting him know you’ll help if you can _might_ make him feel the _teensiest_ bit less shitty.”

Church left Tucker to his own devices, though Tucker heard him joking with Junior a minute later as if knowing Tucker couldn’t handle him coming into the kitchen at that moment.

 _Holy shit,_ Tucker began to type. _I’m so sorry, Wash, that’s horrible. Do you need/want me to come over? Are the others over?_

He sent the message and then stared blankly at the wall as he tried to imagine what it would feel like to be in Wash’s position. He couldn’t comprehend the depth of it, just like he couldn’t imagine the child he’d seen around Wash at the pool simply gone from Wash’s side from that day on. All Tucker held were the sparse memories of Epsilon’s existence and Wash’s words about him, and they wouldn’t let Tucker picture future days that possessed that child-sized hole.

 _No,_ Wash’s reply came a few moments later. _I’m just talking to my parents. You don’t need to come over._

Tucker hesitated, unsure if he should simply take Wash’s words at face value but not wanting to push him. If only Maine was still in the country or Tucker could send Connie a quick Facebook message, then he would feel better about simply leaving it.

 _If you’re sure,_ Tucker texted Wash back at the same time he sent North a quick message.  _Just let me know if you need anything._

North replied before Wash, confirming that Wash had told all the other lifeguards the same thing he told Tucker.

 _Will do_ , Wash replied a moment later and then Tucker’s phone fell silent.

***

**Wednesday, December 13 th, Four Days After Epsilon’s Death **

The media descended on the story like vultures on a carcass. Though they were told outright by both the hospital and the Director that Epsilon died of an epileptic attack that could not have been stopped at the pool, they still called and drove to the pool constantly to receive quotes from the staff. Carolina, Tex, and the Director acted as the media correspondents while the Director told all the other lifeguards not to comment. They released a media statement that offered condolences to the family of Epsilon and stated the pool and doctors did all they could to help him.

Carolina and Tex were both constantly being told by the front desk that someone from some media outlet was on the line for them, and the others watched them always answer with a tired calm.

They only time they saw them become terse was in response to a journalist questioning if the lifeguard who responded to the situation could have done something more.

“The responding lifeguard did everything we are all taught to do in the case of an epileptic emergency,” Carolina said sharply. “They responded quickly and efficiently and I know the hospital has already told you there is nothing more the lifeguard could have done. No, we are still not giving out their name. They are obviously going through a very hard time after this and they deserve privacy while they work through it. Good bye.”

Carolina slammed the phone down, and glared when the others all stared at her. “What?”

“Well said, boss,” York just replied with a smile.

“Does this mean I can start punching them when they get too close?” South asked from where she sat on the cot beside her brother. North squeezed her shoulder, but the unhappy expression on his face stemmed from how pushy the reporters had been with her rather than her suggestion.

“Nobody is punching anybody,” Carolina told her, before picking up the phone as it began to ring once more.

On the other end of town, Epsilon’s parents and Kimball were also speaking minimally to the media. Neither of them gave the media Wash’s name after a request from Tex, and only Epsilon’s father blamed the hospital for not being able to save her son when the usual drugs didn’t work.

Kimball spoke briefly to one reporter to give information on what a brilliant child Epsilon had been and how sorely he would be missed. She let the reporter take a picture of the lake shore Epsilon had captured for her to include in the article, but the remainder of Epsilon’s photos were being kept in his parents’ home, untouched in their grief.

***

**Thursday, December 14 th, Five Days After Epsilon’s Death**

The funeral for Epsilon happened on a snowy Thursday afternoon. Wash went right after writing his last exam of the semester. He had no idea how he actually did on the exam, mind running on automatic and only blurry half-memories of the exam left in his brain immediately after he exited the exam room. He couldn’t feel any concern for the possibility of failure, only capable of focusing on the upcoming funeral and his departure home. Connie had already promised to look after his cats as she had for the past three years over the Christmas break.

Tex and Carolina met him at the doors of the funeral house. They hadn’t told Wash they would be coming, though they had both texted him in the past couple days to say they were keeping his name from the media and to ask him how he was doing. He had replied minimally to both of them as he had to everyone he texted, incapable of thinking too hard beyond his immediate reply without losing himself completely.

The girls stepped away from the walls they leaned on in unison when they saw him approaching. Carolina wore a black dress and Tex a blouse and plain, black slacks. Both wore their long hair down for once, and the winter wind tore at the colourful strands.

“Is the Director here?” Wash wanted to know the moment he finished climbing the stairs and reached them.

“No,” Carolina said, and shook her head. “Just us.”

Wash jerked his head in the approximation of a nod in response. They didn’t know what Wash had realized, and finding the right words to tell them remained far from Wash’s grasp. His gaze moved to the funeral home doors instead, and he missed the sharp look Tex gave him.

When they entered the funeral home, Tex and Carolina both moved to flank him as if they were his bodyguards. None of them moved to create any physical contact, but their presence reassured Wash slightly.

They took a seat at the back, quickly before anyone could get a close look at them. The rows filled with people blocked Wash’s view of the casket, and he didn’t try to get a glimpse.

He spotted all of the other children who Vanessa babysat, though. Theta clutched his grandmother’s hand. Iota and Eta were sheltered by their mother’s arms. A tired looking woman stroked Delta’s messy hair. Sigma stared at the casket the whole time from where he sat between his mother and father. Wash later learned Gamma sat on the carpeted floor between his father’s ankles for the whole ceremony.

Omega sat beside Vanessa, his parents absent from the service. On Vanessa’s other side sat Katie and Andersmith, Andersmith’s arm wrapped around Katie as the girl cried.

There were speeches that Wash didn’t absorb, and words of comfort offered that did nothing to alleviate the grief choking the entire room. There were teachers and classmates and neighbours and relatives all trying not to break apart beneath the crushing weight of their love for a dead boy.

Epsilon’s mother sobbed the whole time. Epsilon’s father had to stop several times during his speech because his voice kept breaking as liquid shone in the blue eyes Epsilon had gotten from him.

Wash offered both of them his condolences very briefly during the reception after. Epsilon’s father seemed to look right through him, but Epsilon’s mother offered Wash a hug that only made his constant urge to scream grow even stronger.

He stumbled away from them and the entire building before Vanessa or anyone else could try to speak with him. Carolina followed him into the cold air after a quick word with Tex, pulling her teal scarf up to her mouth while Wash hadn’t even struggled into his winter coat yet. When they reached Wash’s car, Carolina offered to drive him home, but Wash managed to pull himself together long enough to persuade he was okay to drive home alone. She still looked unconvinced, and made him promise he would text her when he got home.

Snow began to fall as Wash climbed into his car, shutting the door on the cold and Carolina’s concern. His ungloved hands were shaking when he gripped the steering wheel, but that fact barely registered with him, and he didn’t bother turning on the heat before speeding out of the parking lot.

He made it home before anyone could see him fall apart.

***

**Saturday, December 16 th, One Week After Epsilon’s Death **

By the time another Saturday rolled around, Tucker had spent an entire week researching grief online. Partly because of Wash, who still only sent the briefest of replies when Tucker texted him and still insisted Tucker didn’t need to come see him. Wash didn’t even tell anyone when he left the city for his parents’ home right after Epsilon’s funeral, Tucker only finding out when he asked again on Saturday if Wash wanted any company. Tucker wanted to feel only relief after hearing that since he knew Wash’s parents would take care of him, but a part of him still ached to see Wash so he could see for himself how his friend was really doing.

The research had soon evolved into looking up how to broach the subject with Junior, though.

“He’s gonna ask questions about it sooner or later,” Church had said two days after the death. “Especially if he notices Wash acting different or not being around as much.”

So every spare moment Tucker had, he went on Google to look up children and grief. He looked up peoples’ opinions on how to talk about death with children, went on online psychology journals, and read articles until his eyes burned from staring at the computer screen for so long. When he sat down beside Junior as he drew pictures in crayon on the living room floor Saturday morning, it was not that Tucker felt prepared for the talk, but that he felt sick of only _reading_ about how to do it.

Tucker watched Junior for a long moment as he hummed and coloured in the sun in the corner of his page. Tucker leaned his back against the side of the couch and stretched out his legs before checking his phone. Seeing no reply to the message he’d sent Wash hours ago, Tucker tucked his phone into his pocket and took a deep breath.

“Hey, Junior, I need you to pause the colouring for a sec and listen to me, kay?” Tucker said. His son looked up from his drawing, belly pressed to the hard floor and brown eyes filled with contentment.

“Just don’t fucking lie to him,” Church had said that morning before he left to see Tex.

“Do you remember what happened last Saturday at the pool?” Tucker asked him. “When they had to call the ambulance?”

“Yeah,” Junior said after a second’s pause. “They had to help Wash’s student.”

“Right. His name was Epsilon, and he was friends with Theta and Delta and everyone.”

“Oh yeah.”

Junior propped himself up on his elbows but still didn’t sit up. He hadn’t brought up that morning or Tucker’s desire to ask Wash out since Sunday, Tucker keeping Junior as busy as he could until his mom had come for him Sunday night. All he needed to tell Junior about Wash  
that night was the guy was too busy to ask at the moment, and Crystal hadn’t said a single thing about it.

“Did you go see him?” Junior asked, and Tucker felt his intestines tie themselves into knots in the face of Junior’s oblivious optimism.

“No, I talked to Wash and–” Tucker took a deep breath and tried to keep his tone of voice normal. “Epsilon isn’t okay, Junior. He died at the hospital.”

“Died?” Junior repeated the word that had only ever been an abstract concept until that day.

 _Use concrete and literal terms, not euphemisms_ , all the websites had said, so Tucker opened his mouth to explain.

“Yeah. Epsilon had a very serious and special sickness and it made his body stop working very suddenly. And when our bodies stop working, we die. So now, nobody gets to see him anymore.”

Junior frowned and pushed himself into a sitting position. He stared down at his picture for a few quiet moments and then looked back up at Tucker with a worried gaze.

“Am I gonna get sick?”

“No, Junior. Epsilon had epilepsy, which is a sickness you’re born with. You don’t have it.”

“Do _you_ have it?” Junior asked, crawling quickly to Tucker’s side and grabbing at his knee. Tucker held out a hand, and Junior climbed into the space between his legs when Tucker spread them out.

“No, Junior, I don’t have it,” Tucker assured him as Junior looked up at him with wide eyes. He squeezed Junior’s hand when the boy clutched Tucker’s fingers, the boy sitting back on his bum so he could see Tucker’s face. “Nobody else we know has it.”

“Does Mommy have it?” Junior wanted to know a second later. Junior didn’t resist when Tucker wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close to Tucker’s chest.

“No, she doesn’t have it.”

“Church and Tex?”

“No.”

They went through the rest of the Reds and Blues as well as Junior’s friends. Tucker kept his tone patient, knowing it would take much longer than one conversation for Junior to understand what had happened and all its after-effects. When they finally got to Wash’s name, Tucker forced himself not to tighten his grip on Junior.

“No, Junior, Wash doesn’t have it either,” Tucker replied, and ruffled Junior’s hair once before continuing.  “But he’s very, very sad about Epsilon dying, so he might not want to play for a while. And he might be really sad even if we do get to see him.”

“Why?”

“Because he really liked Epsilon and he’ll miss him.” Junior didn’t respond for a second, cheek pressed against Tucker’s chest, but Tucker could picture his confused frown. “He won’t ever get to see Epsilon again since he died, and it’s making him really upset. Theta and Delta are probably really upset too.”

“Oh.” They sat in silence for a long time without Junior so much as squirming. “Are you gonna die, Daddy?”

“Hopefully not for a really long time.”

“Do you promise?”

Tucker opened his mouth to respond instinctively, but Church’s advice echoed in his mind and drowned out his own words.

“Nobody can decide when it happens, Junior,” Tucker said, and tried to ignore the way the truth made his chest ache. “So I can’t promise that, but I promise I will try to live for years and years and years. Okay?”

“Okay,” Junior whispered.

They stayed as they were until Tucker’s bum began to ache and then he offered to draw with Junior. Junior nodded, but didn’t want to stray far from Tucker after their conversation. Tucker didn’t try to push him away or scold him for clinging, an irrational urge given Tucker’s good health. Instead, Tucker grabbed one of the pillows from the couch to sit on and then spread out his legs once more so Junior could sit between them as he continued his drawing.

***

**December 20-29 th, Eleven to Twenty Days After Epsilon’s Death **

The Christmas break came and went much as it had since the end of high school. All the familiar rituals only served to make the differences even more unsettling, like seeing the moon hanging in the sky in the middle of the afternoon.

The Reds and Blues still had their own Christmas get together, but worried questions about Wash interrupted the usual constant and drunken cheer of the annual party. That Wash only ever responded to Tucker’s text messages sparingly and never texted first after months of constant phone conversations only added to Tucker’s feelings of unease.

Tucker was invited to Church’s uncle’s house for a Christmas dinner on December twenty-third, an event that also served to disrupt the usual flow of the holiday. Church would only say, “cuz we’ve been fucking rooming together for three years” when Tucker asked about the invite. Tex would be going to, but she simply shrugged when he questioned it.

Tucker would have really loved to phone Wash about the whole bizarreness of the situation, but now residing in his parents’ home, the lifeguard remained even more distant. Plus, some blip in Tucker’s social life seemed hardly relevant in the face of Wash’s fresh grief.

So Tucker didn’t question it again, and simply showed up with Church and Tex when the night came. He followed them into the massive, modern home looming above an expansive lawn covered in snow. He shook Church’s uncle’s hand, and the man told Tucker to call him Leonard. Tucker smiled politely and tried not to be unsettled by the lack of warmth in the older man’s gaze. Carolina appeared at his shoulder a second later, and her familiar face distracted Tucker momentarily from the new surroundings.

“Dinner is still cooking,” Leonard told them all as they hung up their coats in the front hall closet as big as Church and Tucker’s bathroom. “Would either of you like some wine while we wait?”

Church answered in the affirmative for all of them, and when everyone had wine glasses clasped in their hands, Leonard went to the kitchen to check the food. The four of them stood in silence for a few seconds, holding their wine glasses as Tucker and Tex looked to the two residents of the home. Carolina was the first to suggest they go into the large living room, and they all obediently followed her.

Tucker tried to relax on the leather couches rather than perch on the edge as his gaze went from the beautiful paintings on the wall to the thick white carpet and then to the flat screen TV. A black piano sat in the corner closest to the doorway leading to the dining room. The dining room, Carolina informed Tucker when she saw his gaze directed that way, led to the kitchen and a smaller room where old armchairs and sagging couches sat around a wood fireplace. Doors led from both the kitchen and the room with the fireplace to the backyard.

A Christmas tree towered in the corner across the room from the piano, the star on top inches away from brushing the ceiling, with layer upon layer of twinkling Christmas lights pulling down on the trees’ branches. Strands of garland stretched from corner to corner above their heads, and a large stereo playing Christmas carols sat on top of an oak table with Christmas CDs piled in a black stand to its right.

Tucker kept comparing everything to the shitty decorations he, Church, and Tex had placed in their apartment. Their tree seemed like a sprout in comparison, and the mistletoe Tucker had tossed at Church before hanging it up with a grin felt childish in contrast. All of Tucker’s memories of Christmases as a child suddenly seemed like faded and stained photos in comparison to the dazzling scene before him.

The more he studied the setting as Tex and Church settled on the couch beside him, the more Tucker was reminded of Junior’s grandparents’ home at Christmas, and a feeling of surreal disconnect started to spread through his body.

He glanced over at the TV as Carolina unmuted the Christmas movie playing. An animated version of Rudolph filled the screen, and the sight created a safe and familiar connection that began to combat the hollow feeling of dissociation.

Leonard returned to the room a second later and started simple conversation. Once the first awkward half hour passed, Tucker didn’t find the whole affair too bad. Tex didn’t seem bothered at all by the fact that her boyfriend’s uncle was also her boss, and she spoke easily with him. Despite the stories Tucker had heard and the observations he had made of Tex and Carolina’s relationship, Carolina acted no more abrasive than she did at the pool.

The girls in general seemed much more at ease than either Church or Tucker, but Church easily won first place for worst mood of the group. Before they even moved into the dining room for dinner, he gulped down more wine than Tucker had seen him drink in the past year. He barely spoke, his tone either sullen or snappish when he did, especially if his uncle spoke to him. He sat between Tucker and Tex on the couch, his fingers never staying still as they tapped away on the side of his wine glass.

When they moved into the dining room, Church sat across from Tucker and beside Tex. Leonard sat at the head with Carolina on Tucker’s other side, and Tucker tried his best not to say anything too inappropriate despite Church’s sour mood.

His roommate’s behaviour was yet one more disruption to the normal flow of the holiday. Tucker couldn’t figure out if his uncle was setting off Church specifically, for Church had been in an increasingly sour mood since day one of the break. He only snapped at Tucker if Tucker tried to broach the subject, and Tucker didn’t try to press it. He usually assumed lack of sleep was the cause when Church’s moods got progressively worse, but the holidays always solved that. They were Church’s period to recharge and wade cautiously out of full blown asshole territory before hastily retreating back into the familiar mode once classes began again.

The holidays in which Tex hung around always yielded better results, probably due to her ability to force him to nap. Tucker wouldn’t have originally pinned Tex as one for naps, but she seemed content to lay on top of Church on the couch until he finally passed out as long as she had her phone or a book in her hands.

But Tucker had yet to witness any such naps that holiday, and Church’s scowl deepened the longer the dinner wore on. Tex’s presence seemed to have little effect, and Tucker watched his roommate continue to refill his glass with wine the second it became empty. The amount of food on his plate didn’t seem to change as the dinner wore on, and his knuckles kept going white from clutching the silverware so hard. He barely looked at any of them, only glancing up briefly when Tucker mentioned something about the both of them at Leonard’s questions about school and the apartment.

When they were all done the food, twenty minutes passed at the dark wooden living room table before Leonard stood up to go retrieve dessert for them. Tucker watched him go, not sure why he still felt as if the man held himself distant from all of them despite playing the role of the gracious host perfectly.

“You think you could save some of that wine for the rest of us, coz?” Carolina leaned across the table and hissed at Church the second her father left the room.

Church looked up at her and glared, hand tightening around the stem of his wine glass. Christmas carols drifted through the air from the stereo in the living room, but their crooning sound did nothing to calm the sudden tension at the table.

“Uncle has plenty for all of us,” he replied, and took another large swig without looking away from Carolina’s gaze.

She shook his head at him and then glanced over at Tex. The motion only caused Church to straighten in his seat and offer them all separate looks of defiance.

“Oh so what? Now you want my girlfriend to help you with your stupid intervention?”

“Church,” Carolina began, but he cut her off.

“How about you just go back to hating her guts instead, Carolina? That seemed like a lot more fun.”

Carolina’s hand curled into a fist beside her plate on the surface of the table, and Tucker scooted his chair an inch away just in case. But the girl simply exhaled deeply and then spoke again to her cousin in a measured voice.

“I just thought maybe you would listen to her if you’re not going to listen to me,” she said, and Tucker glanced at the quiet Tex.

“I’m not gonna listen to either of you when you’re freaking out over nothing.”

“She’s not freaking out, she’s just saying you should slow down,” Tex said calmly, and Church whirled on her.

Tucker let his eyes fall shut briefly as if that could save him from the possibility of one of the couple’s infamous arguments. When he opened them again, he shot a quick glance to the kitchen doorway, but the sound of plates and cupboards being opened continued. Leonard didn’t reappear to bring an end to the squabbling and Tucker turned his gaze back to where Church glared at Tex as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Church got out through gritted teeth. “Jesus fucking Christ, it’s Christmas–are we not allowed to have fun during it anymore? Worried it might be contagious, C?”

“You’re on your way to becoming plastered,” Tex told him, drawing his ire back to her and away from his cousin’s stiff form. “In front of your uncle, who is definitely not going to do the same and will just lecture you later.”

“I’m already getting lectured so what does it fucking matter?”

Tucker saw a muscle in Tex’s jaw clench, and suddenly she looked just as fed up with Church’s bad mood as Tucker felt.

“Fine, we’ll drop it. But don’t expect me to stay and take care of you later.”

“I’m pretty sure I never fucking asked you to,” Church snapped at her. “Hell, you can just leave right now if I’m such a fucking chore. Wouldn’t want to ruin your awesome mood.”

Leonard chose that moment to enter the dining room again, and Tex swallowed down any retorts. All of them except Church turned their attention to the pie Leonard carried and attempted to recreate the lighter atmosphere from earlier. Tucker eagerly took his large slice if only for something to distract him from the tension radiating off Church and Tex. He wished once more that Wash was in a state where Tucker could message him about the couple’s drama, and then felt pie crumbs sticking in his throat when he realized how selfish that thought was.

“My stomach’s a bit unsettled,” Tex said five minutes into the dessert. “The bathroom’s upstairs on the right, right?”

Both Leonard and Carolina nodded. Church leaned as far back in his chair as he could when she got up, and refused to look at her. Which left Tucker as the main focus of the conversation, but the questions Leonard asked never strayed too far from the standard ones all new adults asked, and Carolina helped steer the topics to ones she knew Tucker felt familiar with. They avoided talking about Epsilon or Wash or any of the lessons in general.

Tex returned ten minutes later and brushed away Leonard and Carolina’s questions about her health. Church didn’t say a word, Tex didn’t acknowledge him, and Tucker felt his stomach grow more and more unsettled at the thought of having to deal with those two on a break on top of all the other bad shit that had happened recently.

They moved back to the living room, and Tucker’s shoulders sagged a little in relief as they escaped all of the old photographs that hung on the brown walls in the dining room. Church took a seat beside Tucker on the couch, and Tex snagged one of the white armchairs rather than sit on the couch again. Carolina switched the CD for the Christmas carols and Leonard spoke with them all for ten minutes before his cellphone began to ring.

“Work,” he explained, and climbed to his feet. “I’m sure you can all entertain yourselves while I take this.”

He exited into the hallway, and they heard him answer the phone before his voice faded as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. Once he vanished, Tex started flicking through the TV channels and Carolina asked Tucker about Junior. His son had been briefly brought up during the conversation at the dinner table, and Tucker had told Leonard Junior’s age and the basic interests while Leonard offered a few short stories about Carolina and Church as children.

Carolina wanted to know about the presents Junior was going to receive for Christmas and how he had gotten tangled in the Christmas lights while trying to help decorate the tree. Carolina wanted to know about the tobogganing they did yesterday and the vines Crystal occasionally sent Tucker that reminded her of Junior. Tucker couldn’t tell if the questions stemmed from her genuine curiosity, or if they were an attempt to fill the silence with eager words given how much he loved talking about his son, but he didn’t fight the questions. He answered all of them, showed her pictures he had on his phone, and argued with Tex when she threw in her own descriptions of the events.

Only Church remained quiet, their words flying over his head and dancing around his stony silence.

Fifteen minutes after his uncle had left the room, Church shot to his feet without a sound.

They all looked over at him as Tucker’s hands paused where they had been gesturing along with a story about Junior getting stuck in a snowdrift. Without looking at any of them or saying anything, Church stalked out of the room and then stomped upstairs.

Nobody moved for a few seconds, and then the creak of the couch broke the silence. Carolina and Tucker looked over at Tex, but she didn’t glance at them or go after Church. Instead she crossed over to the stereo and chose a new CD.

“Fuck it,” Tucker swore, and then headed out into the hall with Carolina’s gaze trained on his back.

Tucker hurried up the small flight of stairs to the second floor, and then paused on the landing. A long hallway stretched before him, ending with a seat crammed with pillows underneath the window that let him catch a glimpse of the snow falling outside. All the doors on either side of the hallway stayed shut except for one leading to the bathroom.

Tucker crept from door to door, listening at each one. When he heard Leonard’s voice behind one, he quickly moved on. The first quiet door on the left was Carolina’s bedroom. The last door on the right ended up being Church’s bedroom.

The door swung open on a sparse room, and Church lay on his bed with a pillow covering his face. The bed had been shoved into one corner of the room much like his one at their apartment, but a TV and PS4 rested at the end of this one. There were a couple bookshelves that carried a mix of books, movies, games, and CDs, with a lot of them simply spread out on the carpeted floor at the base of the shelves. The dresser drawers were all hanging open with only a few clothes taking up space.

Posters that looked years old plastered the walls, and a massive window occupied most of the wall directly across from the doorway.

“You trying to suffocate yourself now that you realize what a total asshole you’re being?” Tucker finally said when Church didn’t move or say a word at his entrance.

Church raised his middle finger, and then threw his pillow at the Tucker. The object landed several feet away from Tucker, who just stared at his glaring roommate.

“Dude, you look like shit,” Tucker told him after studying his pale face and the shadows beneath his eyes.

“Fuck off.”

“Course, you’ll look even worse if Tex decides to break up cuz you’re being such a prick.”

“Fuck. Off.”

“Make me,” Tucker snapped at him as he felt all of his frustration from the past few weeks reach a breaking point.

Tucker took a step into the room and Church slowly sat up, a few crumbs from his blue shirt falling onto his sagging jeans. “Seriously, dude, what the fuck is your problem?”

“Your stupid ass face being in my fucking room.”

“I’m trying to help you,” Tucker told him angrily. “Because those girls could take us both apart in seconds and I don’t want to spend all Christmas dealing with your mopey ass because Tex broke up with you for being a giant dick over nothing.”

“I don’t mope,” Church said, and Tucker rolled his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure this is moping right now. Sulking, but adult sulking.”

“Adult sulking.”

“Junior sure as fuck doesn’t drink too much wine when he’s sulking so yeah. Adult sulking.” Tucker sighed when Church just looked ready to throw something else at him. “Dude, have you been sleeping?”

“What?”

“It’s a really simple question, even for your brain.”

“Get the fuck out, Tucker,” Church snapped.

“Because you’re always more of an ass when it happens, and I know you didn’t actually want this dinner to happen–”

“I’m not fucking doing this with you.”

“Good!” Tucker shouted. “Cuz I really don’t want to do this and your fucking girlfriend is the one you should be talking to right now. Because one, she would actually make you feel better if you weren’t being such an ass, and two, you pissed her off!”

A cough from behind Tucker interrupted them, and they both turned their heads to see Carolina standing in the doorway.

“Tucker,” she said without taking her gaze off Church. “I’d like to have a word with my cousin alone.”

Tucker spared a single glance for Church’s sullen face, and then nodded at Carolina. She stepped into the room as he stepped out, and then the door shut behind her. Tucker bolted back down to the living room a second later after considering just how angry Carolina had looked.

He returned to find Tex sitting on the couch by herself as she watched TV. She didn’t look up when Tucker sank into the seat beside her with a sigh.

“Are you mad at Church?” Tucker asked, and Tex didn’t even look at him. “Okay, stupid question. Are you _more_ mad at Church than you usually are?”

She glanced at him and offered a single raised eyebrow. “As good as I’ve gotten at reading all your terrifying silences over the years, I’m gonna need a bit more than that.”

“Yes,” she simply said, and then turned her attention back to the TV.

“Like, going to break up with him mad? Because I’d like at least two weeks’ notice so I can find another apartment to sleep at while he’s upset about that.”

“We’re not going to break up, Tucker,” Tex said. “Well, not unless Church wants to.”

“Oh please, like that will ever happen.”

“Reading Week last year?”

“That doesn’t count,” Tucker argued. “The only reason he did it was because you guys made a really stupid bet while drunk.”

Tex shrugged.

“Easy thirty bucks for me,” she said, and Tucker would have shouted at her if he was okay with losing his balls.

“I swear to God, I am just going to stop talking to both of you for the rest of this break.”

Tex rolled her eyes, but lifted up the remote to mute the TV. She turned her full attention on him and tilted her head slightly.

“Wash still not talking much?” she asked, and Tucker didn’t bother hiding his frustration when he shook his head.

“He talking to you or Carolina much?”

“Nope.”

“Great,” Tucker muttered, knowing from the other lifeguards Wash wasn’t saying much to them either.

“His parents won’t let anything too bad happen while he’s there,” Tex said. “They sound like they’re actually decent ones.”

“Yeah,” Tucker said, before glaring at her. “But that’s not my point here.”

“I thought it was.”

“Tex–”

“You worry about Wash, Tucker,” Tex interrupted him. “I’ll deal with my relationship with Church.”

“Yeah, cuz sitting down here refusing to talk to him is totally dealing with it.”

They heard shouting on the floor above before Tex could get a word out, and they both glanced toward the hallway.

“I think I’ll let Carolina deal with him first,” Tex said after a second in which they simply listened to the raised voices of the cousins. Tucker listened for a moment longer and then nodded.

“So what are we watching now?” he asked Tex, and they both turned their gazes back to the TV.

Church and Carolina returned at the same time Leonard came in to check on them. Church still didn’t look happy, but he also looked less ready to murder everyone. While Carolina returned to her chair, Church paused in the doorway and stared at Tex. She glanced up when Leonard entered, and then climbed to her feet.

“I should head out,” Tex announced. “Thank you for having me.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Church said after everyone else said their goodbyes. Tex looked over at him, and Tucker couldn’t read either of their expressions.

Tex didn’t verbally agree, simply nodded and then headed toward the front door with Church at her side. When they heard the door open and then close again without any raised voices and without Church reappearing in the next minute, Tucker nearly groaned in relief. He would have bet anyone his entire apartment in that moment that the two would be making out by Tex’s car soon enough.

 “How much wine did she have?” Carolina asked only a moment later as she stared out the gap between the cream curtains covering the living room windows.

“Not as much as Church,” Tucker snorted while Leonard gave his frowning daughter a glance.

“Is there a problem, Carolina?” he asked when she continued to stare out the window.

“I was just thinking the roads are starting to get pretty icy,” she said slowly. “And that we’ve all had a lot of wine.”

Leonard gave her one last look before examining the door Church had yet to return through. The man headed to the entrance and satisfaction erased the frown on Carolina’s face as she watched her father go outside to ask Tex if she would like to stay the night. Tucker stared a little at Carolina and she raised her eyebrows at him in a way that reminded him of Tex.

“What?” she asked, and Tucker shook his head.

“Nothing,” he replied, for her actions shouldn’t be that surprising given that the girls had been getting along fine that night.

“If she doesn’t want to stay, she won’t–but both of them will be even more of a pain in the ass if she leaves now and they don’t make up,” Carolina said as if she heard everything Tucker chose to keep to himself for his own safety. She looked away from him. “And the roads _are_ getting really icy.”

“Alright, but I’m making it a rule right now that the two of you aren’t allowed to team up if we play Halo later,” Tucker told her. “Tex already beats the shit out of us when she’s pissed at Church, you’re not allowed to help.”

The corners of Carolina’s lips turned up in a smirk, and she didn’t turn her gaze back to him as the other three entered the house once more.

“Don’t piss me off then,” she said, and then fell quiet as her father announced the new arrangements of the night while Church gripped Tex’s hand.

Tucker desperately wished everything could be fixed that easily.

***

 **Monday-Friday, January 8 th**- **12 th, One Month After Epsilon’s Death**

The media storm over Epsilon’s death faded by the time second semester started in the first week of January. Classes resumed with few changes, as if to remind them all that the world simply kept spinning even in the face of a child’s death.

Everyone on the Reds and Blues except for Sarge received a text message from Wash on Wednesday morning before their first water polo practice of the month.

Simmons read the message out loud to Grif from where he curled against Grif’s side in Grif’s bed.

Kai dashed into the kitchen where Donut sung cheerfully as he made eggs and tossed his phone at him.

Lopez glanced at his phone, spoke one succinct swear word, and then returned to eating his cereal.

Sarge already drove toward the pool through the quiet streets of a sleeping city.

Sheila read the message over the rim of her cup of coffee as she reviewed her lab notes for a quiz that day.

One sister handed Caboose his phone when the chime went off, and two others read the message over his shoulder where they sat in the crowded family room waiting for the toaster to be free.

Church glanced up from his computer when his and Tucker’s phone went off simultaneously, Tucker in the middle of swearing at the coffee machine for spurting the hot liquid all over the counter. They both read the message at the same time, and looked at each other with twin expressions of alarm.

_Hey, everyone. Because of what happened at the pool before the Christmas break, I’m still not able to return to the pool. I’m really sorry, but I can’t coach water polo for a while because of this. I’ve already talked to Sarge about it, and he is more than capable of taking over for me. Good luck._

***

**Monday-Friday, January 15 th-19th, One Month and One Week After Epsilon’s Death**

Tex showed up on Connie’s front doorstep at half past seven pm on Wednesday night. In the soft light of the streetlights and blanketed with snow, the small residential neighbourhood seemed the perfect postcard image. She had passed a public school only five minutes back, and when she heard the shout of a child from inside the house, she only felt the slightest sliver of surprise.

Connie opened the door with a small girl draped over her back.

“Hey,” Connie greeted her, and then stepped aside so Tex could come in.

She closed the door behind her as Tex took in the living room directly in front of her and the narrow staircase spiralling up and up to her right. Tex followed Connie and the girl into the living room where Connie dumped the giggling child onto the couch.

“Okay, you gotta go play with Suzie upstairs now,” Connie told the girl, who groaned dramatically and flung her arms back on the couch cushions.

Her brown pigtails dangled past her shoulders, pink dress riding up to her belly button. Connie crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the girl with a stern set to her lips. “A promise is a promise, Rosie.”

The girl pouted and huffed, but eventually got off the couch and stomped upstairs under Connie’s watchful eye.

“Sisters?” Tex asked as Connie swiped crumbs off the couch.

“Yeah, Suzie’s upstairs. My parents are out for their anniversary dinner tonight.”

Tex nodded and took a seat beside Connie on the faded blue couch. There were various toys and blankets scattered all across the floor in front of the television and hanging off the coffee table. Connie had mentioned babysitting and Tex had heard snatches of conversations about siblings, but had never known the details.

“How old?” Tex asked as Connie booted up her laptop.

“Rosie just turned seven and Suzie is eleven. I told them I needed them to play in their room for an hour or so. Once they get started on a game, they’ll be set for a couple hours.”

Tex nodded, trying and failing not to think about the children Vanessa babysat and how they were taking a break from lessons that session due to what happened with Epsilon.

“How’s Wash?” Tex asked Connie, and the girl glanced up sharply.

“Not good,” Connie finally said a moment later. She turned her frown back to the computer screen and started going through her documents. “I mean, he’s alright in classes. Kind of distracted sometimes, but he’s getting through his assignments. Getting through the lectures. But he won’t really talk to me. Doesn’t want me to come over or to come to my place. The most I got out of him was he wanted to focus on school as a coping method but–”

She kept frowning at her computer screen, and Tex spotted the same hunched worry in her that she had been seeing in Tucker since Epsilon died. “I wish Maine was back. He’s heard by now and I’m sure he’s messaging Wash when he can but–”

Connie shrugged helplessly. “It be better if he was actually in the same city.”

There wasn’t much Tex could say for comfort, so she simply directed their attention back to the purpose of the evening.

“You said you looked through the records I got?” Tex asked, and Connie nodded.

A few more clicks and she had the relevant PDFs open. Both girls leaned toward the laptop, quickly scanning the words. Connie jabbed her finger at the relevant part.

“There,” she said. “Health concerns, epilepsy.”

Tex shook her head and leaned back against the couch.

“It wasn’t there,” she insisted. “None of Vanessa’s kids had any health concerns on their sheets at the start of the sessions, I swear to God.”

“Did you see an edit date?” Connie asked. “When you were ripping off the files?”

Tex frowned. She had gotten more files from the actual pool computer last week, and Connie, York, and Chris were still working on sifting through the files she got off the Director’s laptop when she was at his house for the Christmas dinner. There were some emails, too, that she managed to transfer over from his personal laptop, but given the time constraints she had been on, it didn’t look like she had found any relevant ones. She only had a small window of time last week too, and didn’t pay much attention to the files beyond transferring them onto her USB.

“I don’t remember what it was,” Tex finally said. “Would that help, though? It wouldn’t prove _what_ he edited unless we had an actual copy of the one before the edit.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Connie sighed.

Tex looked away from her and the laptop, gaze falling on one of the stuffed animals lying on the floor. She could hear the soft thump of footsteps upstairs and the occasional loud giggle from one of the girls. The sound made her think of the few times she saw Epsilon laughing with the other children, and her hands curled into tight fists on her thighs.

_“It’s not a big deal, you just–you gotta look at a picture and tell me what you think.”_

Pleading notes in his tone. Incapable of hiding the eagerness bursting from his heart with every single beat. Red in his cheeks like the scarlet colour of the girl’s dress in his photo, and happiness widening his small eyes after Tex’s compliment.

He had said he didn’t know if he wanted to go into photography and it hadn’t mattered because he was young. A child still on the cusp of adolescence whose interests would wane and fade before bursting forward again, changed or not.

“See you later, Tex!” he had called the Friday night before his death, as eager to see her again as Church had been when they first met.

She had seen him later but he hadn’t seen her, body thrashing in the pool’s water and his mind already gone from their grasp forever.

Tex absolutely did not whip the pillow at the TV screen or punch the surface of the coffee table like she wanted to. She forced herself to keep staring at the small smudge on the wall the size of a child’s finger, and breathe through all the rage pooling deeper and deeper in chest. Time only made the rage harden like cement, and she could feel herself slowly suffocating.

If Wash was experiencing anything even remotely similar, she could understand why he was so opposed to talking or hanging out with any of them. Suffocating made her want to scream, and the rookie might have shouted at all of them at some point, but he would never let his own pain break free of his lips in undignified wails around them.

“Connie!” One of the little girls suddenly called from upstairs. “The toilet isn’t flushing again!”

Connie sighed, and shoved the laptop onto the coffee table.

“Sorry, I’ll just be one second,” Connie promised Tex, and Tex nodded.

The girl climbed to her feet, but didn’t move toward the stairs. She hesitated, and then reached out to squeeze Tex’s shoulder briefly.

“I’m sorry,” Connie softly, and Tex felt some of the cement melt in the face of Connie’s sad sincerity.

“Go take care of your sisters,” Tex told her. “Then we’ll start looking at the financial discrepancies York and Chris found.”

She forced the next words out despite the way they scraped at her throat on their way up. “There’s nothing about Epsilon’s death we can really pin on the Director. He might have lied, but he didn’t cause the epilepsy. Knowing wouldn’t have done anything to help us stop it.”

“We’re still going to take him down,” Connie said, and not for the first time, Tex saw anger burning Connie from the inside out.

“Of course,” Tex said, and Connie smirked a little at that.

Then she headed upstairs to tend to her sisters, and Tex confirmed with Church that she would be sleeping at his place that night, any other responsibilities be damned.  

***

 **Tuesday, January 23 rd, 45 Days After Epsilon’s Death ** 

It was after six when Tucker appeared on the doorstep of Wash’s duplex. He shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his winter jacket as his breath formed white clouds in front of him. There were thousands of stars to be seen in the clear sky above him, but Tucker’s gaze remained fully on the old door in front of him.

Wash still wouldn’t see any of them and still responded to text messages sparingly. Tucker kept asking him how he was holding up, how school was doing, if he wanted to hang-out soon, and if there was anything he could do to help. In return, Wash always replied he was doing okay, school was fine and his main focus, he was too busy to hang-out soon, and Tucker didn’t need to do anything for him.

Questions about Wash’s cats and comments about Junior only triggered the same simplistic replies. He wouldn’t ever answer the phone, and Tucker couldn’t handle it anymore. Text messages couldn’t give anything away; Tucker couldn’t study Wash’s face for bags under his eyes and a lack of colour in his face through messages. He couldn’t hear the exhaustion in his voice, or the thin cracks of grief criss-crossing from one word to the next through texts. He couldn’t see Wash’s hunched body posture or shaking hands through text messages.

York and North had both gone a couple weeks ago and told Tucker he seemed tired but not breaking apart. They hadn’t been invited in, given the same excuse about being busy but reassured he was doing okay.

“Just be patient,” York had told Tucker when he asked them at the pool. “He’ll ask for your help when he needs it.”

Except York looked just as exhausted as Tucker imagined Wash to feel, and every time Tucker saw the lifeguard, he seemed more and more distracted.

Besides, Tucker needed to see everything for himself or his mind would just keep feeding him worst case scenarios.

That and he missed Wash, more than Tucker had ever thought possible even after accepting that he did in fact have a crush on the lifeguard.

He forced one of his hands out of his warm pocket and opened the door that led to the entranceway. Then he rapped on the door leading to Wash’s first floor unit.

When nobody opened the door after two minutes, Tucker pounded on the door again, frustration beginning to heat his skin beneath his layers of winter clothing.

The door opened long enough for Tucker to catch a glimpse of familiar blond hair, tired green eyes, and Wash’s baggy, grey sweater.

Then the door slammed shut in his face.

“What the fuck?” Tucker said out loud after a few seconds passed in complete silence.

He knocked on the door again. Louder and harder this time, but the door didn’t even open a crack.

Tucker jerked his phone out from his pocket and quickly flipped through his contacts. He clicked call once he reached Wash’s name, and then shoved the phone against his ear. Wash didn’t pick up on the first call, so Tucker called again as his shocked hurt doubled with each ring that screeched in his ear.

Wash picked up on the third ring.

“What the fuck, Wash?” Tucker said, before he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be angry. He was supposed to be patient and understanding of Wash’s grief, but he could still hear the slamming door echoing in his mind.

“I’m sorry, I–you startled me,” Wash replied, and Tucker hated the way his chest ached the second he heard the familiar notes of Wash’s voice.

“So you slammed the door in my face?”

“You’re the one who showed up without any warning in the middle of the evening,” Wash said, and Tucker felt himself still at the unfamiliar coldness in Wash’s voice.

Even when they were just strangers who pissed each other off, Tucker never heard such a complete lack of emotion in the other man’s voice. “What did you expect?”

“We’re _friends._ Friends show up on each other’s doorsteps sometimes without warning, especially in this group and especially when they’re fucking worried about their other friend.”

Tucker didn’t even care at that point if part of him wanted to be more than friends. He would take repressing his feelings for Wash for the rest of his life so long as Wash would at least talk to him again.

Tucker would take it if Wash started talking to any of his friends again, because at least then _somebody_ knew how Wash was really doing. Somebody was helping him. Somebody was making sure Wash really was as okay as he kept insisting he was.

“I’m fine, Tucker,” Wash said after a long silence. A lack of warmth still pervaded Wash’s voice, and Tucker couldn’t hear anything past it. “I’m just trying to focus on school right now, and I’m not up to seeing anyone today.”

“You’re not up to seeing anyone _any_ day.”

“I told you, I’m busy,” Wash shot back, and Tucker thought he could hear the smallest cracks in the apathy. “I just want to focus on school and that means being alone more than I was last semester.”

Tucker wanted to point out that Wash had been a studious student last semester and still managed to find the time to hang-out with him. They had studied together and Wash never complained that those times were detrimental to his studying. He had seemed happier and far less stressed once Tucker started cooking and studying with him, laughter never strained and tone never trying to freeze Tucker out like right then.

Tucker should have mentioned all of those things, but his hurt triggered by the current conversation crushed his argument. He tried for a single second to be more mature and remind himself of Wash’s own pain, but he couldn’t hold onto that thought with the weight of all the silences of the past month pressing down on him.

“Fine,” Tucker snapped. “If you want to be alone, I’ll leave you the fuck alone.”

He ended the call and stalked out of the duplex entranceway without a single glance back.

***

**Friday, January 26 th, 48 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

North left the pool alone after in-service on Friday. York hung back to speak with Carolina, while the others prepared for the evening shift. If Wash had been there, he would have left the building with North, but Wash still hadn’t returned to work and still didn’t speak much with the other lifeguards.

North couldn’t blame him after what happened.

Cold air blasted North’s face the second he left the warmth of the pool building. He shivered and instinctively reached up to pull his hat further down, but his fingers scrabbled at hair only. He glanced back at the building, half-formed swear on his lips at the realization he’d forgotten the piece of clothing. He began to turn away from the empty parking lot when a voice stopped him.

“North?”

North whirled back around, gaze falling on the small form pushing itself away from the wall of the pool building. A purple sweater and jeans were the only protection against the cold, and the pulled up hood of the sweater consumed the child’s pale face. A skateboard leaned against his side despite the snow on the ground.

“Theta?” North asked, and then quickly stepped toward Theta’s shivering form. North knelt in the snow in front of him and took the boy’s small hands in his gloved ones.

“I know I don’t have a lesson right now,” Theta said before North could get out another word. “And Ms. Kimball said we didn’t have to go to the pool if we didn’t want to.”

His hands tightened around North’s, and his voice was smaller than North had ever heard it before. “But I miss you.”

His voice cracked and tears welled up in Theta’s eyes. “I miss Epsilon.”

Theta threw himself at North so hard, North fell back onto the cold pavement on his bum. Theta’s arms wrapped around North’s neck as he started sobbing, and North lifted one arm to hold Theta and used his other to keep himself from falling back onto the ground completely. He shifted his position so he could sit up and use both of his arms to hold the crying boy close to his chest while the wind whistled around them.

Theta didn’t try to say anything and North didn’t know what he could possibly say to ease some of Theta’s pain. For a moment, Theta reminded North of South. In both of them, emotions swelled until every part of their body became an instrument to express that sentiment. So overwhelming was the display of emotion that everyone around them became riveted by the expression, and then found themselves struggling to act within the same space.

That didn’t stop North from trying. He squeezed Theta as tightly as he could without hurting him, and eventually reached one hand up to rub his back. He ignored the pain in his ass from the pavement cutting into him and the cold of the wind around him. He ignored everything except for the crying boy in his lap, and he didn’t try to tell Theta everything was okay.

“I’m so sorry, Theta,” North said instead as Theta’s tears and snot soaked his neck. “I’m right here now. I’ve got you.”

He didn’t tell Theta he wouldn’t leave because nobody expected Epsilon to have done so, and yet he had anyways. He had been taken away from life, and all the other children Vanessa babysat stopped going to the pool due to their parents’ fear of the trauma they experienced there.

Nothing North said could change that.

“Oh shit.”

North twisted a little at the sound of his twin’s voice from behind him. She stood in the doorway of the pool, North’s hat dangling from her fingers while she stared at the scene in front of her. She met his gaze and whatever she saw in his expression made her shoulders slouch.

Without a word, South crossed over to the two of them and plopped down beside North. She shoved his hat onto his head and didn’t pull it down past his eyes for once. Then she scooted close enough that their arms were brushing and her warmth bled into him.

She reached out and placed a hand on Theta’s crying head, but didn’t speak. A long moment passed, and then North rested his head on her shoulder while still comforting Theta. South in turn leaned her cheek on the top of his head just as they used to on long family road trips as kids when the waves of motion sickness left them too tired to irritate the other.  

When Theta’s sobs finally began to lessen and the boy began to hiccup, North straightened. He leaned back a little so he could see Theta’s face and Theta could look up at him. He didn’t say anything, just kept gasping through his sobs as North wiped at the tears and snot with the sleeves of his jacket. Then North placed his hands on Theta’s shoulders and held them tightly while Theta rubbed at his eyes.

The sound of tires tearing across pavement filled the parking lot, and all three of them looked up just in time to see a minibus squealing to a stop a few feet away. The driver’s door burst open a second later as Vanessa scrambled out of the vehicle.

“Theta!” she shouted, and then all the other children were falling out of the minibus.

North helped Theta climb to his feet as the swarm of children rushed toward them. Vanessa reached them first and North had never seen the woman more terrified. For a moment, she looked like all she wanted to do was collapse to her knees and hug Theta in relief. The next  
second, all vulnerabilities were safely tucked away and the infallible babysitter the children expected stood before them once more.

Before she could say anything, Iota launched herself at Theta and Omega began swearing at him.

“What the hell, brat?” the teenager yelled as Katie and Andersmith brought up the rear of the gaggle of children. “You can’t just fucking leave without telling any of us! You gave everyone a goddamn heart attack!”

“I–” Theta started, looking around at everyone with wide eyes.

Iota clung to his neck and her twin stepped forward to grip one of Theta’s hands. Delta’s eyes were red as if he’d been crying earlier, and he also moved forward to grab one of Theta’s hands. North and South took a single step back as Vanessa and the others moved to huddle around Theta.

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” Theta finally said, voice barely above a whisper. That only seemed to make Omega angrier, and even Maine’s student looked upset by the turn of events.

“Of course we fucking noticed, how in the fuck–”

“Omega,” Vanessa cut him off sharply.

The teenager gave her a sullen look but fell quiet. Vanessa stepped forward, and knelt down directly in front of Theta’s hunched form. She placed both hands on his shoulders, and he met her serious stare.

“ _Never_ go off without telling one of us,” she told him, and the strain in her voice matched the tight expression on her face. “Do you understand, Theta? Never.”

He nodded and bit his lip like he would start crying again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and glanced at the others. “Are you mad?”

Omega snorted, but everyone else shook their head.

“We were very scared,” Vanessa said. She paused, and North couldn’t tell if it was because she needed to think of her next choice of words or she needed a moment to recollect herself. “When I turned around and you weren’t there anymore–I thought something bad at happened. That you’d been hurt or someone took you.”

“I just wanted to see North,” Theta told her, and her grip on his shoulders tightened.

“That’s okay, Theta. You can see North, but you have to ask first, okay? And not when you have another appointment.”

“Appointment?” North repeated, and Vanessa’s gaze flickered to him briefly.

“Okay,” Theta said, and Vanessa straightened.

“Okay,” she said, and looked at each of her charges in turn. “Everyone back in the car. We’re going home and getting warmed up.”

“But–” Delta began, and everyone turned to look at his uncertain gaze. He glanced at the Dakota twins, then to the pool, and then to Vanessa. “If we’re already at the pool, can’t we go see York?”

“I want to see Tex,” Omega cut in, and crossed his arms defiantly when Vanessa looked at him.

“We want to see Carolina!” Iota exclaimed when she released Theta. Eta nodded, and Gamma took a step closer to Vanessa.

“I have a new joke to tell Reggie.”

“I don’t know if we can right now,” Vanessa slowly said. North caught her gaze going to Theta’s exposed hands and the tear tracks on his face. “All of them are probably busy working, but we can come back another time.”

“We’re already fucking here,” Omega protested. “It’s fucking dumb to leave now.”

“Omega–”

“If Theta got to, why can’t we?”

“Not now, kiddo.”

Everyone turned at the sound of Tex’s voice. She stood in the doorway of the pool, arms crossed over her chest much like Omega, but a calm mask on her face as opposed to his angry one. At the sight of her, some of the anger fled but the defiance remained.

“Why the hell not?” Omega demanded, and she raised an eyebrow at him. He scowled but then said, “Why not?”

“Theta’s cold, it’s late, the others are working, and your babysitter just spent the last hour thinking one of you got stolen,” Tex listed off. “Go get some hot chocolate, wrap yourself in a blanket, and watch a movie. I’ll talk to Ms. Kimball and figure out a time you can all see us.”

The others didn’t look completely placated by Tex’s words, but they slowly made their way back to the vehicle when Vanessa, Katie, and Andersmith then prodded them. North gave Theta one last big hug, and then Katie wrapped an arm around him as she led him back to the shelter of the minibus.

“Thank you,” Vanessa said to the lifeguards as the kids were herded away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier,” North told her. “When he was crying–”

“No, I understand,” Vanessa interrupted. He couldn’t see resentment in her eyes, but the exhaustion and worry could be hiding it for the moment. “You were trying to comfort him. I should have–they didn’t seem interested in going back to the pool after what happened with Epsilon, and their parents thought it would be too traumatizing.”

North saw Tex stiffen out of the corner of his eye, and even South appeared subdued. “I knew they liked all of you, but I never realized just how important to their social support system you’d become.”

“To be fair, I don’t think many people would have,” South snorted, and Vanessa offered her a small smile.

 “You said Theta was at an appointment?” North asked, and the smile faded from Vanessa’s face.

“Yes. His parents and I thought it would be best if he saw a grief counsellor.”

“Has–has it been bad?” North asked, and both Tex and South moved closer to him.

“Some days are worse than others,” Vanessa said softly. “To be honest, I thought all of them might benefit from professional help, even if it’s just one appointment. It’s their parents call to make, and I’ve talked to all of them. Theta and Delta’s family were most receptive to the idea. But obviously finding the right one and the time needed and the money–”

She trailed off, and then straightened. “Today was Theta’s first appointment. I knew he was nervous but I didn’t realize he was that scared.”

“How can we help?” North asked, because that was the only thing he could think to say. He saw South give him a look, but she didn’t say anything. Vanessa looked startled, but a thoughtful expression consumed her face when she glanced from Tex to North.

“If you were serious about another time they could see everyone,” Vanessa said to Tex, who simply nodded. “Well, maybe that alone would help. But I’m not sure–at the pool you obviously can’t give them all of your attention and I think that’s what they want at this point.”

“I’ll talk to Carolina and the other lifeguards,” Tex told her. “See what they think. I work most days after one pm at the pool, so phoning here works, but I can give you my cell number too.”

“You can have mine too,” North said as Vanessa pulled out her phone to input the new numbers. “Just in case.”

“Thank you,” she said, and accepted them both. A horn honked behind them, and she smiled a little. “I think that’s my cue. I’ll be in touch.”

She headed off as the wind gusted small whirlwinds of snow into the air. They watched the vehicle start and then slowly head out of the parking lot.

When North and South turned back around, Tex leaned against the building wall and studied the both of them. Her arms were still crossed over her chest, and something in her intense gaze made him want to curl in on himself protectively despite the fact that they had been friends for months now.

“I need to talk to you,” she finally said.

South pressed against North’s side with a hard gaze and stuck out her chin at Tex. The hint of a smirk touched Tex’s lips. “ _Both_ of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: There is also now this amazing piece of art done of Tucker and Wash's 'confrontation' so to speak: http://sta.sh/0cvlvzdq8p1
> 
> From the Epilepsy Canada website: "Epilepsy is a physical condition characterized by sudden, brief changes in how the brain works. It is a symptom of a neurological disorder - a disorder that affects the brain and shows itself in the form of seizures." Those with epilepsy are mostly at risk from related injuries and while death is rarer, death can be caused by the seizures themselves if they are not stopped or if repeated seizures happen one right after the other. Doctors will attempt to stop the seizures with medication injected through an IV, usually lorazepam. 
> 
> When an epileptic emergency occurs at the pool, the lifeguards' priority is to get EMS to the scene and to prevent the person from injuring themselves further; there is nothing that can be done to directly stop the seizures. Hence, in the water Wash would attempt to keep Epsilon's airway out of the water and then have Tex hook her feet beneath Epsilon's armpits so he remained at the surface level and didn't hurt himself further. 
> 
> In terms of the media, there is no public staff list that anyone would be able to access in the places I have worked, and we are told to never give out a lifeguard's personal information to the public. Most media outlets would not press further if told the lifeguard involved did not wish to comment or be a part of the news stories (as per a reporter I asked).
> 
> I am overwhelmed (in a good way) at the amount of response the last chapter received. Thank you so much for all your comments even if they were just angry screaming. The next chapters will be getting a lot longer as everyone deals with all the fall-out of Epsilon's death and we get closer to the end of this fic. 
> 
> Happy endings take some time, but I promise this story will get there, now sooner than later.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to edit the "days after" number on the last two parts of last chapter because I can't count (clearly there is a reason I went into writing and not math) but the timeline should be all correct now!

**Sunday, January 28 th, 50 Days After Epsilon’s Death **

Soon Tucker wasn’t the only one asking about Wash’s absence. Junior might have accepted Wash was busy or sad for a couple of weeks without asking again, but as more time passed, Junior started to ask more and more when they would get to see Wash again. He accepted the answer that Tucker needed to wait until Wash was happy again to ask about being a boyfriend, but no matter how many times Tucker told him Wash was too sad to see anyone, Junior would forget and ask a couple days later. Since Junior had yet to experience a sadness that lasted longer than a weekend, Tucker understood why he struggled to grasp Wash’s experience, and Tucker kept his voice as patient as possible when answering Junior’s questions.

It stung, though, every time Junior asked when they could go see Wash and Tucker had to tell him they couldn’t. A day after Wash slammed the door in Tucker’s face, he received a message apologizing.

_I was really harsh yesterday,_ Wash’s message read. _Sorry. Maine actually threatened to punch me when I told him about it._

The hurt still coiled around Tucker’s heart when he read the message, but the relief at Wash initiating a conversation and apologizing pushed the sentiment away long enough for Tucker to send back a forgiving message. He also sent his own apology for the last thing he had said to Wash.

Tucker had thought that was a sign things would change, but Wash only involved himself in conversation that day and then returned to his earlier, reclusive habits when the sun dawned the next day. He still didn’t want to talk much, didn’t want to see anyone, and insisted everything was fine despite that.

Tucker was left with a bruised chest and knotted stomach, a confused kid, and a group of friends that were as okay as a university student who just pulled three all-nighters in the middle of exam season while surviving on protein bars and coffee.

While usually it took at least two months before school dragged Church to the point of four hours of sleep per night and unbearable asshole levels, Tucker’s roommate was already worse than he had been during the December exams. He stayed up when Tucker went to bed and was up before Tucker in the morning, his bag for water polo and school already packed. Based on Tucker’s glimpses of Church’s computer screen before he went to bed, his roommate wasn’t even being kept up by homework. Instead, he seemed to be consciously avoiding sleep as much as possible, which was never a good sign in terms of his stress levels and the peace of the apartment.

There were even a couple nights when the sound of his shouts woke Tucker, which hadn’t happened since they shared an actual room in first year and there were no walls to muffle sounds stemming from nightmares. Most nights, the sound quieted as soon as Tucker woke, though sometimes he fell back asleep to the hushed noise of Tex’s murmurs.

Tex didn’t seem to be faring much better. Over the past two years Tucker had seen her in moments where she appeared as human as any of them–hung-over, tired from a late night, frustrated with school, frustrated with them, stressed–but she always bounced back to her impervious state quicker than Tucker could track. Dressed flawlessly even in yesterday’s clothes, waves of straight blonde hair, and an air of untouchability hanging off her every motion; she carried herself through the day as if nothing bad had ever happened or would ever happen again. 

Now whenever Tucker saw her, he kept catching glimpses of exhaustion in her pale face. Her arms were constantly crossed over her chest, fingers digging into her own flesh intermittently as if there were slivers there she needed to scoop out herself. Tucker didn’t think she was angry at either of them over anything in particular, but she looked distracted all the time and grew even terser than usual, which only added to Church’s shitty moods.

_IDK y but yeah,_ Kai texted Tucker back when he asked if she noticed the same behaviour in Tex and if she knew why it was happening. _me + sheila noticed. got really tired + frustrated @ gym. cuz of that kid?_

_Maybe,_ Tucker replied, because everything seemed to be coming back to Epsilon.

Many of the other lifeguards seemed just as tired when Tucker saw them at the pool Sunday when taking Junior to the recreational swim. Even wearing a uniform, neither York nor North looked put together, fabric of their shirt crumpled and hair a mess as if they slept two hours in the uniform and then rolled out of bed just in time for their shift. The gazes they trained on the pool were alert enough, but the smiles they gave Tucker when he waved at them from the benches were tired. Neither had news about Wash, and South had just shaken her head when Tucker saw her in the lobby.

When Tucker asked her why she was out in the lobby clearly hassling Bitters, she replied,

“Cuz I’m sick as fuck of all the stress in the guardroom. I swear I can see a cloud of it around Carolina thanks to the stupid fucking exam she’s just gonna get perfect on. I’m gonna shoot one of them if I’m in there much longer.”

“She wasn’t very happy, Daddy,” Junior commented after they spoke briefly to York, and York and North were taken off by South and Florida.

They stood by the shallow tank while Tucker surveyed the pool deck and pool. Junior had one hand in Tucker’s as he eyed the bucket of toys near the shallow end bulkhead.

“I think a lot of people are unhappy right now, buddy,” Tucker sighed just as he spotted a familiar patron they hadn’t seen at the pool for weeks.

Kimball stood by the benches closest to the guardroom with Gamma. None of the other babysitters were there, and when Tucker looked over at the guardroom, he saw all the younger children speaking with the lifeguards inside.

Tucker led Junior over to the two, asking him if he remembered when they talked about seeing the children Kimball babysat. Junior nodded and repeated the phrases Tucker had helped him come up with for when he first saw them and if they appeared sad while they played. Tucker offered him a smile just as they reached Kimball where she spoke softly with a fidgeting Gamma.

“Hey, Kimball,” Tucker greeted her, and both of them turned around sharply at the sound of Tucker’s voice.

She smiled at them as she returned the greeting. Gamma stared at Junior who clutched Tucker’s hand but didn’t shy away from Gamma’s stare.

“I’m sorry about Epsilon,” Junior told Gamma solemnly, and Kimball froze.

Gamma blinked at Junior, but Junior just kept gazing back with a somber look. Without a word, Gamma raised the hand not holding his 3DS to clutch at Kimball’s fingers. The action seemed to startle Kimball back into awareness, and she wrapped her hand around Gamma’s small one.

“Me too,” Gamma replied after a long pause, squinting at Junior in slight confusion. He glanced up at Kimball and when she offered him a reassuring smile, he turned his attention back to Junior. “Do you wanna hear a joke?”

“Okay!”

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Junior!”

Both kids and adults startled at the sound of Iota shouting Junior’s name. She tore across the deck and nearly knocked Junior right over with the force of her hug. The affection she displayed seemed equivalent for a best friend, not a child she’d played with a couple times at the pool, but Junior smiled back. Eta and Delta were quick to follow Iota and stand around Junior and Gamma. Katie arrived a few seconds later from the guardroom, though the rest of the children and Andersmith remained absent.

“Did you come to play with us?” Eta asked hopefully.

“Can I?” Junior asked Tucker who grinned at him.

“Sure can. Are we starting with the floaties?”

Kimball’s kids went silent, and all of them looked toward the yellow matt floating in the water with panicked expressions. Gamma took a step closer to Kimball’s side.

“I think it be best if we leave the floaties in the water for the other kids,” she said smoothly as Tucker and Junior looked at the others in confusion. Kimball offered Tucker a smile, though her expression had gone tight.

“We aren’t actually planning on going in the water today,” she explained to Tucker, and placed a reassuring hand on Gamma’s back. “The children wanted to see the lifeguards and we brought some puzzles and colouring books to use on the deck for a little while.”

“Would you like to play with us still, Junior?” Katie asked gently, and Iota’s hand tightened around Junior’s.

Junior glanced once at the water all of Kimball’s children now appeared so afraid of, and then up at Tucker. When Tucker nodded at him, Junior smiled at Katie.

“Okay,” Junior said, and the others cheered.

Katie, Kimball, and Tucker helped the children lay out all of their towels on the lower benches and dry areas of the pool deck. None of them wanted to be far from Katie or Kimball, but neither of the babysitters seemed annoyed by the children’s clinginess. They pulled out one puzzle that Delta, Eta, and Gamma eagerly grabbed, and a colouring book for Iota and Junior to share. The three with the puzzle sat on the benches with their legs dangling off the edges, while Iota and Junior laid on their stomach with crayons scattered around them.

“You know, I don’t think it be a big deal if we take some of those flutter boards,” Tucker said when Junior squirmed on the hard surface.

Kimball nodded, and then asked the children to stay with Katie for one moment while they went to get the items. They all nodded, but Gamma’s anxious gaze didn’t leave their backs as they made their way across the deck to the far wall where flutter boards were shoved on a rack on the wall.

“The others have the day off?” Tucker asked Kimball as they avoided the puddles of water on the deck.

“At home with their parents for the most part,” Kimball said. “Andersmith has a test and I told Katie she could stay home, but she wanted to see them today. And she wanted the kids to get a chance to go to the pool, which wouldn’t happen if it was just me.”

Tucker nodded, well aware of the rules to do with how many adults to children there needed to be. Though if they weren’t going into the water, he wondered if those rules still applied.

“Wash told me about Epsilon,” Tucker said softly, and tried not to choke on Wash’s name. Kimball looked over at him sharply as they reached the flutter boards. “How are they holding up?”

Tucker grabbed an armful of the blue, oval boards and Kimball did the same beside him.

“Depends on the day, to be honest,” Kimball said quietly. “They’re surviving. This is the first time we’ve been inside this building since the incident. Sigma and Omega weren’t keen on the idea, but they all wanted to see their swimming instructors. We talked to them, promised they didn’t have to go into the water and could just play on the pool deck–the younger ones are worried something bad will happen if we go in the water because of what happened to Epsilon, even though we’ve explained the epilepsy caused it. We’re all doing our best for them but–”

She hugged the flutter boards to her chest and her fingers dug into the blue surface. “They lost someone they loved. Some people never get over that.”

Tucker stayed quiet, knowing he didn’t have the same experience, but reminded of his situation with Wash nonetheless. Time and distance had only made Tucker love Wash more, even with all the frustration and hurt tangling beneath the longing. If they went much longer as they were, Tucker was certain all his emotions of affection, resentment, hurt, longing and everything in between would turn into such a knotted mess, he would never be able to untangle them. And that single thread of love would be intricately linked with all the others, impossible to pluck free without tearing out some essential part of Tucker it had hooked itself into.

Then Tucker would have a few choice words for the person who said time healed all wounds.

They stood there for a moment in silence, gazes going back to the children where they were on the benches. Katie kept her attention divided between all of them, speaking to all of them with a smile. All of them kept glancing over at Kimball and Tucker.

“How’s Washington doing?” Kimball asked as they headed back over to the children. Her gaze stayed on the benches so she didn’t see Tucker wince. “I saw him at the funeral, but didn’t get a chance to speak with him then, or since then.”

“He’s–struggling a little bit, I think. Keeping busy with school, though.”

Junior called across the pool deck for Tucker right at that moment, and Tucker picked up his pace before Kimball could press the subject. Thankfully, the children continued to demand all of their attention, and nobody brought up Wash again for the rest of the day.

***

**Tuesday, January 30 th, 52 Days After Epsilon’s Death **

The children wanted to go to a water polo game.

They had expressed interest when Epsilon had been alive, but up until that year, all league games took place in the morning to keep from conflicting with most other school sports. With Epsilon’s death and the new hesitation around the pool, Kimball thought the interest was gone. Even after talking to them about how they felt about going back to the pool and they all said they wanted to see the lifeguards, she thought the interest to see a water polo game had faded.

Until she discussed the upcoming game with Katie in the middle of the kitchen on Monday night.

“Our game this week is after school,” Kimball told her. Katie looked up from the strawberries she had been frowning at while cutting them. Kimball leaned against the stove, staring through the doorway at the empty dining room.

“Is that good?” Katie asked hesitantly, and glanced at the hallway leading to the living room where the children currently played. “Can we take the kids?”

“We could if they’re okay with it,” Kimball said slowly, remembering their pleas to see the lifeguards again and the conversations she had with the lifeguards since. Her mouth twisted when she thought about the details of the match. “The game is against Doyle’s team.”

“ _Oh_.”

Katie didn’t say anything more and Kimball didn’t need to look over to know there would be an unhappy expression on her face as understanding fell into place.

“Isn’t that the guy you hate?” Both of them startled at the sound of Sigma’s voice, and spotted him standing in the doorway leading to the hallway.

“Who hates who?” Eta’s curious voice piped up from behind him. She stepped into the kitchen and looked between all three of them. “Can I have some juice?”

“They’re playing a water polo team they don’t like after school this week,” Sigma told her as Katie crossed to the fridge to get out the juice. “Does this mean we get to watch it?”

“We get to watch?” Eta asked, immediately perking up at the news. Before Kimball could get a word out, she turned around and shouted toward the living room. “Iota! We get to watch water polo this week!”

“Eta,” Kimball said sharply as Katie handed the girl a cup.

Eta looked back at Kimball in confusion, but the damage was already done. They heard Iota call something back, and then footsteps thumped in the hallway. Sigma stepped to the side as Theta and Iota came skidding into the kitchen.

“We get to watch a game?” Theta asked breathlessly, and Kimball couldn’t bring herself to crush the eagerness on their faces.

“That’s right,” Kimball forced out after a pause, realizing that even if she wanted to tell them no, her team didn’t have enough players for her to leave Katie or Andersmith home to watch the kids. And the children seemed genuine about their desire to go back to the pool so long as the people they knew stayed close and were assured nothing bad was going to happen to them just by playing there. “On Tuesday after school.”

Theta grinned at her and then turned around to sprint back to the living room. They heard him calling the others’ names as he went, and the twins crowded around her. She smiled and tried to focus on their happiness rather than the way a hollow feeling of stress sucking at her insides.

Which was how they ended up at Blood Gulch Pool on Tuesday morning with the children sitting on the benches while the two teams warmed up. Ground rules had been set for the children the night before and repeated on the way to the pool. They were to stay on the bench unless there was an emergency. Sigma was in charge and none of them were allowed to wander off without asking first, and never alone. If their swimming instructors were there, they could speak with them as much as the lifeguards said was okay, but they couldn’t distract them from their job or chase after them. They would have time to speak with them later if they weren’t there or unavailable at the time.

However, if any of them felt scared or sad or nervous at any point while they were at the pool, they could get off the bench and tell Kimball or one of the others as soon as possible. That was said to the children every time they went to the pool now, and Kimball made sure to repeat it both before they left the house and after they entered the pool parking lot.

They were also warned things might get a little competitive and there might be some yelling.

“We don’t really like this team or the coach, so we might yell a lot,” Katie added on their way to the pool even as Kimball resolved to limit her shouting for the children’s sake.

They all agreed easily enough, though they wanted to know more about the other team and their names. When they finally got to the pool, Kimball stayed with them long enough to spread their stuff out over a bench and help them get settled. She also reassured them once more that nobody on her team would be hurt if they went into the water and none of them had epilepsy. Once the children seemed as comfortable as they could get, she turned her attention to the rest of the pool deck.

None of the lifeguards who taught the children were currently on duty as far as her could tell. The only ones in the guardroom were an older man and North’s sister. While their swim teachers’ presences might have made the children even happier, at least Kimball and the others wouldn’t have to worry about the children running after any of their teachers that day.

Doyle’s team was already warming up while Doyle stood on the deck with his attention focused on his team, and her players slowly slipped into the water as well. Before she could head over to her team, though, a familiar mass of chattering people on another bench caught her attention.

“Tucker?” she asked when she stopped in front of the bench, and the water polo player twisted from where he argued with Caboose. He blinked and then gave her a large grin.

“Hey, Kimball,” he said as the others chorused a greeting.

They were spread out across two levels of a bench, Sarge and most of the other Reds sitting on the top, while Tucker, Kaikaina, and Sheila claimed the lower seats. For whatever reason, Caboose sat on the gap between the two immediately behind Tucker. Lopez also sat in the middle, but that appeared for the sole purpose of being able to hold Sheila’s hand.

“What are all of you doing here?” she asked them after a second’s pause.

“Cheering you guys on, duh,” Kaikaina said, and then raised her voice as she waved at Kimball’s team. “Kick their asses, guys!”

Katie, Volleyball, and Palomo all looked over at her shout and gave her large grins in reply.

“We’re supposed to be neutral and watch _both_ teams, Kai,” Simmons said, and Kai rolled her eyes at him.

“You guys might have agreed to that, but I never promised the old man nothing.”

“Sarge thought it would be a good idea to watch other teams’ matches,” Tucker explained before the others’ argument could drown out everything. “Figure out strategies or some shit. We thought it would be cool to watch one of yours.”

“And now we get to watch two teams we like!” Caboose said cheerfully.

“Right,” Kimball said, and then realized someone was missing. “Washington couldn’t come?”

Tucker outright flinched and the joy from Caboose’s expression vanished.

“Dude’s still avoiding the pool and us after what happened to Epsilon,” Grif told her as his sister reached up to grip Caboose’s hand and press closer to Tucker’s side.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kimball said, pushing away her own grief that rose up at the sound of Epsilon’s name.

She glanced at Tucker’s unhappy expression, remembering the little he’d said about Washington when they last spoke. She felt her grief only grow as she remembered just how much Epsilon had liked Washington and how supportive the lifeguard had been in turn.

“Well that’s why I had Grif bring his fancy dancy video camera,” Sarge said into the sudden silence pressing down on all of them. “We’ll film the whole thing, show it to Wash later, and Grif can finally put his pointless degree to use.”

“I’m not even gonna try and argue with you right now,” Grif sighed as Caboose brightened at the idea.

“That’s right, we can tell Wash lots of stories after!”

“You are _not_ allowed to be in charge of that,” Tucker told him, and Kimball let their easy banter trigger a small smile before she moved on to her waiting team.

The small group of them eagerly began warming up by the bulkheads as Doyle’s team warmed up in the furthest half of the diving tank. The referee leaned against the guardroom window, glancing down at his watch every few minutes as time ticked down to the start of the game.

Neither she nor Doyle had enough players for a full team, and just enough to reach the minimum number the league allowed teams to play with when short players. Kimball’s team was only at that number after calling a player up from another team, and she saw some unfamiliar faces on Doyle’s team that she assumed were also call-ups.

Technically, they weren’t supposed to play every game short as that indicated they didn’t actually have enough players to make a team by league standards, but the referee didn’t seem particularly bothered by their lack of players when he called over Kimball and Doyle. She could feel Tucker’s sharp gaze on them the entire time the referee asked if they needed to wait a few minutes for more players to show up and they both told him there were no more coming. The referee had been with the league for a while and knew both of them, so he simply shrugged and told them the game would start in two minutes.

The cool politeness Doyle and Kimball gave each other when speaking with referees together usually lasted five minutes into the actual game. Then they started shouting at each other, and at the referee about each other and the other’s team. Everyone agreed that Kimball was the loudest and often most vicious, but Doyle gave as good as he got with dismissive retorts and biting comments. 

Kimball did try to keep herself from yelling at Doyle for as long as she could. He seemed surprised by the reaction, though he also stayed quieter for a longer period of time. Neither could keep their mouths shut for very long though, especially once the referee called something against their own team. They would yell at the referee and that would drag the other into it as they defended the referee, until they were only yelling at each other and their shouts had lost all relevance to the original issue.

The pool rang with their voices, the children’s cheers, and the Reds and Blues’ loud whoops and encouragement. The lifeguards remained safe behind the windows of the guardroom, and the children stayed on the benches.

Neither coach would ever admit it verbally while in the presence of the other, but their teams were fairly evenly matched, and the fact that both lacked substitutions only equalized their teams more. They ended up tying, despite Doyle’s many protestations about how the last goal was preposterous and should have been a foul.

The referee looked ready to murder them both by the end, but the urge lessened when both teams shook each other’s hands.

After all the handshaking following the game, both teams retreated to their separate benches. Kimball turned her back to Doyle who stood near the edge of his team by the guardroom, and focused her attention on the chattering Palomo. The others were all grabbing their towels and speaking with each other while they waited for her to give the after game speech. Some of them spoke with the Reds and Blues who sat on the benches near the children, and Kimball got a glimpse of Tucker’s serious expression as he studied her team before his gaze flickered to Doyle’s.

Andersmith moved to Kimball’s side and she glanced up briefly to make sure Katie had gone over to check on the children sitting on the benches.

“Ms. Kimball!” Katie’s panicked voice drew Kimball’s attention only seconds after she turned back to Palomo. She looked up to see Katie’s wide gaze going over her shoulder and when Kimball turned around, she spotted Eta walking straight up to Doyle.

Everyone watched as Eta stopped right behind the man and stared up at his back, none of the Feds having noticed the small child’s presence. The girl only paused for a second before she reached up and tugged on the back of Doyle’s shirt.

“Eta,” Andersmith said, but he fell silent at the shake of Kimball’s head.

She watched as Doyle whirled around and looked around the deck at his eye level for a puzzled moment. His gaze met hers’ and then his eyes widened when he looked down to see Eta staring up at him.

“Are you Mr. Doyle?” Eta asked, and Kimball heard Palomo whisper,

“Oh my god,” from behind her.

“Er, yes, that I am,” Doyle replied, and he glanced over at Kimball again. She let her usual defiance fill her expression but she didn’t move toward him or call Eta back.

“Have you been a coach a really long time?” Eta asked. All the Feds behind Doyle were slowly falling quiet and turning to watch the scene unfolding before them with obvious confusion.

“Well it’s been a few years now, so yes, I suppose I have been a coach for a long time now.”

“As long as Ms. Kimball?”

“Yes, as long as Ms. Kimball.”

Movement caught Kimball’s eye, and she turned her gaze to see Iota stepping toward Doyle as well, buoyed by her sister’s confident conversation.

Both Andersmith and Katie started forward, but Kimball stopped them even as she clenched her jaw as Iota reached Eta’s side.

“Good Heavens, you’re multiplying,” Doyle said when he noticed Iota’s presence, and he took a startled step back.

He glanced up Kimball again, and she tilted her body toward them but forced herself not to go drag the twins away. If the twins were curious she knew she needed to let them speak with him, but the second Doyle fucked up, she would be ready to attack.

And Doyle knew it.

“Do you like hugs?” Iota asked immediately instead of introducing herself.

“Erm,” Doyle looked over at Kimball once more, gaze gone wide in terrified uncertainty. She just stared back at him with an expectant look. “They can be very nice, I think.”

“Oh.” Iota titled her head. “I thought maybe you didn’t like them and that’s why Ms. Kimball doesn’t like you because she gives really good hugs.”

“Iota loves hugs,” Eta informed him.

“I see,” Doyle said, even though he looked more confused than ever. “Would you like a hug right now?”

Iota studied him for a moment and then nodded her head with a solemn expression on her small face. “In that case, I’m sure Ms. Kimball would–”

Before he could get another word out, Iota stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. Andersmith and Katie’s mouths dropped open and Kimball barely managed to keep hers from doing the same. They had all assumed after telling the children about the team’s dislike for Doyle and his team, Iota wouldn’t try to be as affectionate with any of them as she usually was with people. After all, her affection toward strangers had dimmed significantly since Epsilon’s death and multiplied with people she knew.

Doyle froze in place, eyes somehow going even wider as he looked down at the top of Iota’s head. When she didn’t immediately let go, everyone watched Doyle slowly bend over and place his arms around her. He held her for as long as she stayed still, and the uncertainty seeped from his expression with each second spent in the position.

All of the Feds now watched with curiosity as they whispered to each other, and Kimball heard Donut say,

“Aww,” from the benches.

Iota let go a moment later, stepping back and giving Doyle a smile.

“You’re good at them too,” Iota informed him, and he blinked at her.

“Thank you?”

Reassured by the acceptance of Eta and Iota, the other children let curiosity drive them forward. The teenagers didn’t bother looking for permission given Kimball’s watchful gaze on the scene they moved toward, but Delta and Theta looked to her for a nod first. Theta seemed nervous, but Delta’s grip on his hand kept him moving forward alongside the older boy.  

This time Kimball moved closer, and Katie and Andersmith stepped with her. She felt as if the entire team behind her held their breath, but none of the children seemed to notice the tension.

The twins turned when the rest of the children approached, and Iota grabbed Doyle’s hand as if claiming him as her friend first and foremost. Doyle started at the contact, but he didn’t pull away when Iota looked up at him with a smile. He looked far less confident when the swarm of children reached him, Sigma only an inch shorter than him.

“You don’t look very good,” Sigma commented after studying Doyle’s increasingly pale face.

“I’m alright, the pool deck’s heat makes me feel slightly faint is all,” Doyle said weakly, and both teenagers and Gamma looked unconvinced.

Before they had a chance to press him on the matter though, all the children started talking at once. Both Andersmith and Katie winced at the overwhelming cacophony of noise they knew well, and even Kimball felt the tiniest slivers of pity when Doyle took an actual step back. Yet the chaos only lasted five seconds, and then Doyle raised both his hands and voice.

“I can’t hear any of you,” he said sternly above all of them, and they all slowly fell quiet.

A flicker of surprise showed in his face, mirroring Kimball’s own reaction when the children listened to him. But the hesitation only lasted a second before confidence pushed it away and he continued to speak in a firm tone. “I can’t hear any of you if you all speak at once like that. So, I think a better idea would be to take turns. Who would like to go first?”

That only triggered another round of simultaneous shouting, but Doyle shut it down quicker that time, holding up his hands with his palms out in a sign for them to stop once more.  

“On second thought, I think youngest to oldest would work best,” Doyle said, and Kimball felt something like a glimmer of respect at the way his tone gave no room for the children to whine or protest.

“Really?” Theta asked, and he shot the scowling Omega a triumphant look. “I can go first?”

“Are you the youngest?” He glanced between all of them, and Kimball could easily picture his brain desperately comparing all of their heights and facial structure to try and figure out which was the youngest.

“He is,” Delta and the twins promised as Theta eagerly nodded his head.

“Well in that case, go right ahead, um–”

“Theta!” Theta told him and took a step closer.

“Theta,” Doyle repeated. His face scrunched a little at the unusual name, but he didn’t comment on it and Kimball felt her tense shoulders relax the smallest fractions. “Then yes, go ahead, Theta.”

One at a time, the children spoke and asked questions of Doyle. Kimball watched Doyle speak to all of them with genuine honesty, and listen to them with as much attention as he gave his business projects. Once everyone had a chance to go once, Doyle let them start all over again since none of them looked bored yet. Nobody from either team dared break into the conversation, and though Doyle occasionally glanced up at Kimball, he kept speaking with the children even when some of their questions flustered him.

In the third round of questioning, Eta asked,

“Why don’t you like Ms. Kimball?”

Both Doyle and Kimball went still, and Kimball could feel her team’s gazes swinging back and forth between the two of them. Doyle’s face flushed as Eta and all the other children stared at him expectantly.

“Oh,” Doyle began. “I–I don’t _dis_ like Ms. Kimball, we just–she and I–we don’t get along and she’s never been particularly fond of me.”

“Why not?” Eta asked with a frown. She glanced back at Kimball to direct the question at both of them.

“That is an excellent question,” Doyle said, and turned to Kimball as well. “Why don’t you explain this one, Ms. Kimball?”

Kimball glared at him, but quickly struggled to pull the anger out of sight when all of the children turned their gazes on her.

“We’ve had some disagreements,” Kimball said through gritted teeth. She heard a couple people snort at the understatement, but she couldn’t tell if it came from her or Doyle’s team.

“Ooh, you might not like Tucker’s idea then.”

Everyone turned at the sound of Donut’s voice. The cheerful man stood right behind Kimball with Tucker and Sarge on either side of him. Tucker stepped into the space between Doyle and Kimball while the rest of the Reds and Blues crowded behind Kimball. Tucker glanced between the two water polo coaches with a determined expression before saying,

“You two need to join teams.”

Loud verbal protestation came from both teams and the younger children looked between them with wide eyes. Tucker didn’t even look surprised, just glared at both teams before shouting,

“Just shut up for _two seconds_!”

“Everyone back to the benches with Andersmith,” Kimball told the children she babysat, and they only hesitated briefly before following her orders. Iota offered Doyle one last hug first and the youngest children all smiled at him before dashing over to Andersmith’s side.

“Umm, Tucker, no offense, but that’s just crazy talk,” Palomo cut in, and Tucker glared at the younger boy.

“Palomo, I swear to God if you don’t stay quiet I will punch you right in the fucking face.”

Tucker turned his attention back to the coaches and the pool deck filled with silence as the two teams waited. None of the lifeguards came out to check the status, though since no one was in the pool and the yelling had stopped, Kimball imagined they weren’t obligated to.

“Look, neither of you actually have enough players by league standards,” Tucker said after taking a deep breath. “And maybe most teams are cool with matching your low number in the pool, but something tells me Felix won’t, and he’ll make sure the league isn’t cool with it.”

Both Kimball and Doyle glanced at each other, for both of their teams had been forced to forfeit a game and quit whole seasons entirely for that very reason before.

“But if you combined your teams, you guys would have plenty of players by league standards,” Tucker continued. “And you guys know all of each other’s strategies.”

“We do?” Palomo asked, but before Tucker could snap at the boy, Sarge broke in.

“From the sidelines, seemed like the two of you knew the other team like they were your own.”

“Not that surprising given we can guess all the Reds’ moves after years of playing against them,” Tucker said with a grin, and Sarge scowled.

“Hey, at least we’re unpredictable,” Simmons protested. “You and Church always did the same move.”

“I don’t know, Simmons, it’s not like Sarge had that many strategies besides charge head on.”

“What’s that about charging at you, dirt bag?”

“Back to my super awesome idea,” Tucker said loudly over the bickering, and he turned a serious gaze on Kimball as she crossed her arms over her chest. “This solves your guys’ massive player shortage problem in seconds. I mean, you’d have to talk to the league, I guess, but you guys are business people–I’m sure you could work out some deal.”

“That’s really not how it works,” Kimball protested.

“I concur,” Doyle said, and then glanced at her at the agreement.

“You have to admit the idea has some merit,” Tucker argued, and then looked over at the benches. “The kids seemed to think so.”

Kimball narrowed her eyes at him, but he just stuck out his chin defiantly. While she wanted to instinctively snap a negative answer, she _had_ just witnessed Doyle being incredibly positive and cooperative with those she would kill for. When she looked over at the man, he was gazing at her hesitantly as if seriously considering the idea.

“You guys have worked together before, right?” Simmons broke in while they both stared at each other. “On joint business projects between your companies? My dad said that campaign you guys worked on to raise money for War Amps of Canada two years agowas the best fundraiser he saw all year and gave both your companies a huge boost in popularity.”

“There was a lot of screaming involved,” Doyle muttered. Kimball didn’t bother snapping back at him as she remembered how little sleep both of them got thanks to all the stubborn arguments and meetings.

“But,” Doyle raised his voice, and everyone looked to him. “I suppose if you are willing to try, Ms. Kimball, then I will also give this idea a chance.”

For the second time in an hour, Kimball’s jaw nearly dropped open. Doyle hesitantly offered his hand to her and Tucker grinned.

For a moment, she wondered how everyone would react if she just walked away and refused to even entertain a situation that would only bring frustration and disappointment later. Every reaction was bearable except for that of the children, who would no doubt be confused and then saddened when she offered scorn to a man who showed them such genuine friendliness.

“Alright,” Kimball said, and took his hand. “We’ll give it a try.”

***

**Friday, February 2 nd, 55 Days After Epsilon Dies**

Only a day after Theta showed up crying at the pool, Vanessa took North up on his offer to help. She phoned his cell phone late Saturday afternoon to say she spoke with Theta and Theta’s parents, and wanted to know if North could accompany Theta to his weekly visits to his new grief counselor.

“They’ll be Fridays at five-fifteen,” Vanessa had told him. “I could pick you up from the pool or your home on our way in, but I completely understand if you have work or school at that time.”

North didn’t know the exact conversation that occurred, but somehow Tex and Carolina managed to convince the Director to let North leave in-services half an hour early. The weeks the Director ran the in-services, North would need to complete all the skills in a short period of time, though he suspected weeks with Carolina and Tex in-charge wouldn’t carry the same condition. Not when Tex had witnessed the scene the other week and Carolina’s experience with her own students made her sympathetic to North’s situation.

So Vanessa picked him up at the pool at five on Friday, and then drove them all to the appointment while Andersmith and Katie watched the other children at Vanessa’s house. She drove a silver Kia rather than a minibus that day, which North assumed was the car she used when she wasn’t driving a gaggle of children and teenagers around.

North handed Vanessa the cards from all the lifeguards that had been made for the other children she babysat and then climbed into the backseat.

Theta slouched in the back seat and fiddled with his seat belt when North first arrived at the vehicle, but the boy straightened as soon as he spotted North. He talked with North but his chatter remained subdued for the ride, and he grabbed North’s hand as soon as they reached their destination.

Vanessa turned off the car once they were parked in the long driveway of the Victorian home turned therapist offices, but didn’t demand they get out right away. She twisted in her seat to study Theta’s hunched form and North kept all his attention on Theta.

“Scared?” North asked softly, and Theta jerked in his head in a nod.

“I promise he just wants to talk,” Vanessa told him. “Just talk and maybe even play some games. And you don’t have to tell him anything you don’t want to.”

“I wanna play with Epsilon,” Theta whispered. His eyes began to fill with tears, and North wondered if they would even make it through the door before his heart broke completely.

“I do too,” Vanessa said, and North heard the way she struggled to keep the jagged edges of her heartbreak out of her voice so it wouldn’t cut Theta. She stretched out one of her arms and placed a hand on Theta’s knee. “But you know we can’t. And I don’t want you to be sad all the time, Theta, and this will help you more than I can help you by myself.”

Some of her control broke on the last sentence, and for a moment, North caught a glimpse of just how much she was hurting.

“We’re on your side, right, Theta?” North asked, drawing Theta’s gaze away from Vanessa’s distress for a moment. Theta nodded, lips trembling. “Well, this new guy wants to be too. He wants to help all of us and cheer you on like I do at the pool.”

“You just have to meet him, Theta,” Vanessa promised, fresh composure in her voice and straight body posture. “Just talk to him for one hour and if you don’t like him, we don’t have to come back.”

“You won’t get mad?” Theta said, wide gaze darting between the two of them. “Mommy and Daddy won’t get mad?”

“Never about this,” Vanessa assured him. “This is all about you and making you feel better.”

“And we’ll be waiting in there the whole time,” North promised.

Theta stared at them each in turn before looking out the window. Little flakes of snow were beginning to fall to an already blindingly white landscape. All the lights appeared to be on in the office, old houses with their cozy lights shining behind drawn curtains surrounding them. Theta’s gaze roamed up the black spires shooting to the sky like something out of a fairy tale, and North wondered if the boy imagined all the fantastical creatures that could be hidden there, or if Epsilon’s death made it so he simply saw another house possessing only a dull reality. For what was the point in believing in magic if it couldn’t grant him the one thing he wanted the most?

“Okay,” Theta said quietly, and then reached out his free hand to grab the door handle.

North followed Theta out his door as the boy still held onto his hand. They stopped on the icy sidewalk inches from the car as Vanessa locked the vehicle and moved around it to stand by them. All three studied the green trimmed eaves and white walls before Theta grabbed Vanessa’s hand as well and the three of them walked toward the building with Theta tucked safely between North and Vanessa.

Snow crunched beneath their feet and North glanced to the covered lawn where a sign declared three therapists occupied the building. Beyond the corner of the house they could all see a black arbour filled with graceful designs of twisting vines and blooming flowers. He imagined there would be large gardens in the back during the spring, and when they stepped onto the wooden porch, they saw similar nature-themed carvings on the wooden columns. Despite his decision and North’s comments about how cool the house looked, Theta clung even tighter to North’s arm as they entered the building.

The inside hallway and rooms had been turned into one massive room that reminded North of a friendly cartoon version of the waiting room of a walk-in clinic.

At Vanessa’s assurance, they all moved to sit on brown cushioned chairs in a brightly lit room filled with colouring books, toys, and children’s drawing squeezed between the idyllic scenery paintings on the walls. There were bookshelves lining the walls with brightly coloured covers. A large table covered with different puzzles and drawings occupied the middle of the square room. What looked like an empty receptionist desk sat against one wall, and a large staircase could be seen near the back by a closed door.

Theta’s hand tightened on North’s and North quickly looked down to give the anxious boy a reassuring smile. He squeezed Theta’s hand when the boy pressed closer to his side. The anxiety from outside started to creep over his face again, and Theta seemed to regret his current predicament more and more.

“What time is it over at?” Theta asked North and Vanessa, the same question he had asked several times during the ride over.

“Six-fifteen,” Vanessa told him, not a single note of impatience in her voice despite the repeating question and all that happened five minutes ago. “Just one hour and then you get to home.”

“And you’ll both wait for me?” Theta asked, gaze swinging back and forth between them.

“Of course,” Vanessa said, and North replied,

“I promise.”

North leaned closer to Theta as a heavyset man with wavy grey hair to his shoulders came down the stairs and stepped into the room.

“Remember, if you don’t like it here we can always go somewhere else,” North told him, repeating Vanessa’s words from earlier. “There’s plenty of other people we can go talk to, and we won’t make you visit someone you don’t like. Okay?”

“Okay,” Theta whispered.

The older man stopped a few feet away from them, the sleeves of his moss green sweater pushed up to his elbows.

“Theta?” the man called softly, and everyone turned to him. At the sight of him, Theta grabbed North’s arm with both hands and buried his face in the fabric of North’s coat.

“Vanessa Kimball, I was the one who spoke with Jocelyn last week.” Vanessa stood to shake the man’s hand, and introduce everyone else. She explained Theta’s mother was working, his dad away, and who she and North were to Theta.

“Joel Woods,” the man said to North and Theta after she finished speaking. “I’m the one Theta’s here to see, though I can see he’s not too pleased with the idea.”

Theta didn’t say anything, all of his fear from earlier returning in full force and holding him in a quiet and stiff grip.

“You can sit with North if you’d like, Theta,” Joel told him, and North glanced at him in surprise.

When Joel just smiled, North wrapped an arm around Theta’s side to reassure him of his protection. Vanessa took her seat and placed a hand on Theta’s shoulder as another show of silent comfort. Without a word, Joel knelt on the blue carpeted floor in front of them, one hand resting on the table as he kept a few feet of space between Theta and himself.

“Do you like colouring, Theta?” Joel asked a moment later. A sense of ease seemed to radiate from the man’s relaxed posture and calm smile. The positive expression never faded completely, even though Theta refused to look at it. “Or are you a puzzle person?”

A few seconds ticked by in silence, and then Theta gave a reply North’s jacket rendered incoherent.

“Little bit louder,” North told Theta gently. “We can’t hear you if your face is like that.”

“Delta likes puzzles,” Theta finally whispered, turning his face an inch toward Joel. “But I’m not very good at them. I’m not very good at drawing either.”

“You don’t need to be good at it, I just want to do something you like. We also have some Play-Doh and paint you can use. Interactive books if you’re more of a reader.”

“I like paint I guess,” Theta said, and North glanced at Vanessa. He thought he caught a glimpse of the same helplessness he felt before she tucked away any expression but fond patience for Theta.

“Do you just want to do nothing?” Joel asked.

Theta turned his head another fraction so his eyes became visible to all of them.

“Can I do that?”

Joel didn’t look surprised by Theta’s question, spots of sadness appearing in his eyes before dancing away only seconds later.

“We can take breaks, but we need to do a little fun first.”

Joel rocked back on his heels, standing slowly as if not to startle Theta. “Do you like animals, Theta?”

That got Theta’s cautious attention. He refused to move out from the shelter of North’s arm, but he straightened in his chair. “My friend at the office has a golden Labrador she brings in every day and–”

“You have a _dog_?” Theta interrupted, though his hand continued to cling to the sleeve of North’s jacket.

“We do. Not every day, but she should still be here today. Would you like to play with her?”

Theta stared at him, but looked back at North. “North and Ms. Kimball can come play too if you want.”

“Really?” Theta asked, mirroring all of their thoughts. Joel’s smile grew an inch.

“I think this first time is alright, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Theta agreed eagerly, though he still didn’t move toward Joel.

Only once North and Vanessa made to stand did Theta stand with them. He kept both hands in theirs and stayed firmly between them, but Joel didn’t seem to mind. He simply led them toward the back staircase and then up the flight of creaking stairs to the second floor. The first door on their left transported them to a spacious room that looked like mishmash of an art studio and living room. A woman sat at the desk near the far windows, but there were sagging couches and throw rugs between her and the door. Easels for both paint and chalk lined the right wall, and soft light from the setting sun and hanging lights above filled every corner of the room.

Despite the desk, North decided the place looked more like a common room for all of therapists there, rather than one of their offices. The fact that the desk stayed bare except for the few sheets of paper in front of the woman only added to North’s belief.

“I brought Sandy a new friend,” Joel announced as they walked into the room.

Theta dragged his feet once they reached the doorway, but the sight of a dog lifting its blond head off the floor drew him forward.

The dog didn’t move from her spot on the maroon rugs lying between the brown couches, waiting for Theta to come to her instead. Joel moved out of the way, and Vanessa and North moved with Theta until he knelt directly in front of the dog.

“Her name is Sandy,” Joel told them.

The woman at the desk watched for a few seconds before excusing herself from the room with a smile, auburn hair gleaming in the dying sunlight as she left the room. “She’s five years old and absolutely loves making new friends. She’ll play with you if you want, Theta, but she’s also perfectly fine with just hugs.”

Theta slowly released Vanessa’s hand and then placed it on top of Sandy’s head. The dog simply blinked at him, and North watched the ghost of a smile appear on Theta’s face as the boy continued to run his fingers through Sandy’s fur.

“She’s been trained to stay quiet and not startle the children,” Joel explained. “But she’ll play and run with him if that’s what he needs.”

The man took a seat on the couch but didn’t move any closer to Theta and his content playmate. North knelt beside him as the boy still hadn’t let go of his hand, but his shoulders relaxed as the minutes ticked by and Sandy continued to let him fawn over her. Joel said nothing, but before North could learn if the man would have spent the rest of their session in silence, Theta finally addressed the man first.

“Does she know a lot of tricks?”

“Sure does, she’s a right show-off at the dog park. Do you know a lot of tricks?”

Theta nodded shyly. “Will you tell me some?”

Theta hesitated, and he once more started squeezing North’s fingers like he thought North would vanish if he didn’t hold tight enough. North didn’t say anything, but returned the squeeze to reassure Theta he was still there.

“I can do some skateboarding ones,” Theta told Joel, and Joel practically beamed at him.

“Really?” Theta nodded. “I _wish_ I could do something as cool as that. Can you do a jump?”

“Yeah. I can do one right off the ramp at Ms. Kimball’s house and everything.”

North let his eyes fall shut briefly as some of his tension seeped away when Theta continued to answer Joel’s gentle questions. There were several breaks and pauses, several moments where Theta clutched tightly at North’s hand. But he no longer looked like he thought Joel would swallow him whole, or Vanessa would suddenly collapse if she wasn’t within arm’s reach.

When the session ended, Theta didn’t flinch away from Joel’s goodbye and he told Joel maybe he could come back. Joel didn’t press him to agree, he just smiled at Theta and wished him good luck with the rest of his skateboarding tricks.

When, on the ride home Theta asked North what he thought of Joel and seemed to agree that he deserved another chance, North felt something like hope shove its way through his clogged body and paste a small smile on his face.

***

**Thursday, February 8 th, 61 Days After Epsilon’s Death ** 

For the entire shift Thursday night, Tucker struggled to keep himself from hiding in the backroom. Stress made him antsy, and each minute feel like a year trapped between the loud kitchen appliances and pushy customers. He wanted to be safe in his own room where he could mope or swear as much as he desired. He wanted Junior’s comforting presence and warm smile, even though Junior had said the other weekend that nowadays Tucker looked sad even while smiling at Junior.

He fucking wanted Wash to genuinely talk to him and to stop shutting him out like all they had ever been were strangers on a bus who had made awkward contact once and awhile.

None of those things magically happened though, and Tucker’s work shift dragged on and on. Grif and Simmons came in a couple hours before Tucker closed for the night, snagging a booth without even glancing in Tucker’s direction. Simmons barely said a word when he came up to order, just glaring at Tucker and telling him to fuck off when he teased Simmons about being on a date with Grif. Grif didn’t look very happy either when Tucker glanced over at him, but then another customer demanded Tucker’s fraying patience.

Close to an hour later, only the two Reds and a table of teenagers remained in the cafe. While the teenagers spoke intermittently in quiet voices, Simmons and Grif seemed to grow more and more irritated with each other each time Tucker glanced over at them. They sat across from another, Simmons steadily leaning closer as he whispered furiously at Grif. The more Simmons talked, the tighter Grif’s expression grew, mouth twisting into a frown when he snapped back.

Tucker simply avoided both tables as much as possible, fiddling around behind the counter before finally forcing himself to start all the tasks that needed to be done before he closed for the night. He glanced out the window at the cold night once before he moved out from behind the counter and stepped toward the tables with a dish bucket under one arm. Nobody walked by outside, and he couldn’t help but wonder how miserable Wash felt about the current below freezing temperatures before he forced his aching brain to focus on all the dirty dishes scattered across the tables.

He started going from table to table and stacking all the dirty plates and cups in his bucket.The tables near the back corner behind Grif were first, and then Tucker moved across the cafe toward the teenager’s table, catching a snippet of Grif and Simmons’ argument as he went.

“–lecture me about it when your fucking laziness is just a goddamn front for the same issues because your mom abandoned–”

Tucker stumbled and nearly dropped the bucket of dirty dishware he held at the words and vicious tone spilling from Simmons’ lips. He glanced back at them when he reached the safety of the counter, but neither of them were paying anyone else any attention, glaring at each other as their argument grew louder and louder.

One of the teenagers near them called Tucker over only a few minutes later, and Tucker glanced once at his arguing friends before heading over. He tried to give Grif and Simmons as much space as he could, but he still heard Grif angrily say,

“–if you just took five seconds to stop kissing the asses of those who don’t fucking deserve even a second of your time let alone–”)

After that, Tucker stayed firmly behind the counter and refused to go near his friends’ table. He snuck glances every few minutes, hoping things would die down even though the poison he had heard spewing from their lips told him this was not an argument that would simply be brushed away. This one would leave marks, though he couldn’t guess how deep when he knew nothing of the triggers.

Five minutes later, the sound of a textbook being slammed on a hard surface drew everyone’s startled attention. Simmons now stood, shoving his stuff into his bag with his flushed face turned away from Grif’s scowling one. Tucker couldn’t hear them from where he stood blinking behind the counter, but he easily read Simmons’ lips when he said,

“fuck you” before storming out of the cafe.

The teenagers just shrugged and turned back to each other, but Tucker watched Grif stare after Simmons long after the redhead disappeared from sight. Tucker half-expected Grif to go after him, but he slowly unfroze and turned his scowl on the remaining textbooks on his table. He made no move to study, and Tucker could only stare at the unhappy expression and hunched shoulders for so long before he sighed and headed over to the table.

“Don’t say anything,” Grif grumbled when he spotted Tucker out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t turn to look at Tucker when he stopped at the end of the booth, just kept glaring at the table.

“Is everything okay?” Tucker asked, and Grif twisted in his seat to turn his anger on Tucker.

“I told you to–” Grif stopped and blinked at whatever he saw in Tucker’s serious expression. “You’re actually serious?”

“I’m not a _total_ asshole, you know,” Tucker said, unable to keep the irritation from his voice. “And it’s no fun hanging out with you two if you’re gonna be all mad and sad.”

Grif narrowed his eyes at him, but for all their posturing, they really did try to help each other when the other found themselves drowning in all of life’s struggles. The longer he studied Grif and watched the fury fade into a tired hurt, the more Tucker thought this particular struggle had been going on longer than Tucker realized. Given how wrapped up he had been with Wash, Tucker wouldn’t be surprised if he had missed any negative tension building between the two of them. And Kai’s complaints about the two of them were so constant, Tucker no longer thought anything of them.

“I don’t even know anymore, it’s just one big fucking mess,” Grif said after a moment of silence, air gusting out of him in a long, frustrated exhale. His fingers tapped incessantly on his textbook as he leaned back against the booth and met Tucker’s gaze.

Tucker waited, keeping his expression as open as possible while Grif sifted through his own thoughts.

“Simmons is just–he’s being fucking Simmons.”

“Okay,” Tucker said, confusion elongating the syllables of the one word.

Grif glared at him.

“Don’t give me that. I don’t mean the normal kissing Sarge’s ass and being an anxious nerd about school. I mean self-destructive shit that also fucks with everyone around him.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, _oh_.”

“We’re not talking like drugs or some shit, are we?”

Grif snorted.

“ _You_ would have noticed that. Nah. But I know there’s people in his classes he wants to date and scholarships he could win if he applied–which you would think he’d want to do given his nerd status–and all this other shit that could make things better, like moving out of the fucking toxic environment he’s in.”

There was something missing from Grif’s story, Tucker realized. He didn’t look tense or nervous as if he was actively hiding something, the only stiffness in his body posture stemming from his fury. But he kept stopping to think about his words, and Grif was rarely careful with his words in anger or a normal mood.

Then again, maybe Tucker was just getting too used to people who refused to speak genuinely about their issues.

“Right, okay,” Tucker said with a nod, because he knew Grif wouldn’t tell Tucker anything he didn’t want to. “And he won’t do any of it because?”

“Thinks his dad will find out and kick him out.”

“Jesus.”

They all knew that Simmons’ kept his sexuality a secret from his dad and his dad was a controlling person, but Simmons never discussed any of it in detail so Tucker didn’t realize it was that severe. “His dad’s an asshole.”

“Yuuup.”

“How would he find–”

“Trust me, I dunno, that’s just what Simmons said.” Grif shrugged. “Which is why I say he should fucking move out of that miserable place and actually do what he wants.”

“He could move in with you guys if he had to,” Tucker said slowly, shifting from foot to foot for a moment after a quick glance at the other customers. “I know Donut has the couch, but Simmons could always just use the air mattress you guys bought, yeah?”

“We fought about that too,” Grif grumbled, scowl returning at the memory. “I’d be perfectly fine with that and so would everyone else. But he doesn’t have a job, and there’s also tuition and textbooks and food–”

“His dad would do a complete cut-off?”

“Are you surprised?”

“No. Pissed as fuck, yeah.” Tucker sighed. “But not surprised.”

“Yeah so. And he won’t do anything to get money cuz his dad thinks it’s dumb and there’s also this weird fucking pride thing going on too. Like he wants to prove he’s competent or strong enough to deal with it all on his own and survive uni like this or some dumb shit like that.”

Grif shook his head, and Tucker guessed he knew more about Simmons’ reasons and the whole situation in general, but Tucker didn’t push it.

“And then you guys fought,” Tucker summarized.

“And then Simmons was a complete dick,” Grif corrected. “Like, Church levels of assholery.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Grif shoved at the textbook in front of him, nearly knocking his empty glass right off the table. “Fucking schoolwork is less exhausting than this shit.”

“No kidding,” Tucker said, thinking about the way stress over Wash made his insides feel hollowed out and his limbs as tired as they grew after a long water polo practice. “Is there anything I can do?”

Grif raised an eyebrow at him, and it was completely unfair that he could look as unimpressed as Wash could with a single action.

“Do you really think he’ll accept help from you if he won’t even listen to me?”

Tucker couldn’t keep himself from wincing at the bitterness in Grif’s voice.

“Yeah true, I just–

_I just can’t seem to do anything to help Wash and it’s making me want to shoot something_ , he thought but didn’t say. _I’m just so tired of not being able to help. I’m sick of feeling useless._

Judging from the way Grif stared at him, he knew what Tucker wanted to say. But he didn’t bring it up, just went back to staring at his textbook while Tucker finished grabbing his dishes. Tucker had just retreated behind the counter when a gust of air blew into the cafe as someone else entered.

Tucker looked up and stilled at the sight of the short girl gazing around and playing with her brown ponytail. She met Tucker’s gaze and recognition burned away all her hesitation as she strode toward him.

Relief ballooned inside Tucker’s chest and for the first time since his shift started, the urge to scream endlessly at the sky faded.

“Thank fuck you’re here,” Tucker said the second Connie reached the counter. “I was starting to think you’d gone off and joined Maine in fucking Europe.”

“Everyone at the pool would be able to tell you that’s not true,” Connie said, not even glancing at the menu.

“Yeah well, they’ve not really been the most helpful at this point. Like whenever I ask them about talking to Wash they’re all, you just gotta be patient, let people come to you, blah blah blah. But they look like they haven’t been sleeping for weeks and it’s February and Wash hasn’t gotten better, so I’m not really taking them seriously at this point.”

Tucker pressed his palms to the surface of the counter as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “ _Please_ tell me you’ve been talking to Wash. Going to his house. Studying with him. Seeing him on campus. Hell, I’ll take just seeing him in lectures at this point.”

“I’ve been hanging out with him on campus,” Connie said after a second, and Tucker felt his shoulders slump.

“Oh thank fuck. How’s he doing?”

Connie stared at him.

“Has he not been talking to you?” she asked slowly.

“No, I didn’t think he’d been talking to anyone.”

“That–” Connie shook her head. “No, I guess I knew that. He hasn’t really been telling me much but I thought maybe with you–”

Connie sighed. “I don’t even know anymore.”

“Why is nobody more concerned about this?” Tucker demanded, struggling to keep his voice down. “You’re all supposed to be his friends and you don’t even care that he’s pushing everybody out of his life.”

“Of course I fucking care,” Connie snapped. Indignation blazed to life so quickly in her eyes, Tucker took a small step back. “Do you think I’ve just been passively letting him tear himself apart? Maine and I have been trying to talk to him and keep tabs on him as much as we can, but he’s been keeping us out too. Not as much as everyone else I’m sure, but he hasn’t exactly been open about how much he’s hurting. I hoped it would be different with you.”

“Well it’s fucking not,” Tucker said. “And I’m sick of everyone acting like it’s fine and not doing anything about it.”

Tucker pushed his dreads back over his shoulders angrily. “Like fuck, I would take just seeing him at this point but nobody is even trying to do that.”

Connie studied him for a moment in silence and Tucker didn’t bother hiding his impatience.

“What are you willing to do for Wash?” she asked abruptly, leaning forward with her hands pressed on the counter separating them. “Will you do absolutely anything for him?”

“Yes,” Tucker said, and refused to look away from Connie’s serious gaze.

He knew he should feel afraid of how quickly the answer slipped off his tongue without any conscious thought propelling it forward. But after two months of being incapable of helping Wash and muddling through his feelings for the lifeguard on his own, Tucker refused to let anything keep him from doing _something_ for Wash. Even if all the silence and slamming door had made hurt and the beginnings of resentment burrow in his chest.

“Not scared of your own feelings anymore?” Connie said with a wry smile, and Tucker snorted.

“This isn’t about my fucking feelings, it’s about helping Wash.”

When Connie just kept staring at him, Tucker added,

“But yes, I’m not denying my more than platonic feelings anymore. Happy?”

“More than platonic,” Connie repeated with an amused smile as she pulled her phone out of her jean pocket.

“Yeah, yeah. Are you gonna tell me what I can do to help or not?”

Connie just lifted the phone to her ear in response, turning away from Tucker slightly but still letting him see her face. Her fingers tapped on the counter and Tucker did a quick sweep of the store while they waited for the other person to answer Connie’s call.

“Hey, Tex,” Connie said a few seconds later, and Tucker’s gaze jerked back to her calm face.

“What the fuck,” Tucker mouthed at her, but she just shook her head at him.

“I’m at Mother of Invention talking to Tucker,” Connie told Tex over the phone. “I think we should tell him.”

That had all of Tucker’s attention focused on her, and she glanced over at him with an unreadable expression.

“He’s really worried about Wash,” Connie said into the phone when she turned away again to stare at the cafe wall.

“I know it’s not,” Connie argued after a reply from Tex. “But he’s a part of it too–we all are.”

Connie fell quiet again but Tucker watched her expression only grow more and more determined the longer Tex talked.

“He could give another perspective and he’s always at the pool,” Connie pressed, and then frowned. “It sounds like you’re just worried about him getting hurt.”

If Tucker hadn’t been able to see Connie’s serious expression, he would have thought the girl was making things up to try and push Tex into agreeing.

“Okay,” Connie agreed a moment later, her expression lightening a fraction. “Okay, see you then.”

Connie shoved her phone back into her pocket and turned to face the waiting Tucker fully with a smile.

“She wants to meet at her place after your shift is done,” Connie told him. “I can wait here till you’re done.”

Connie walked away and plopped her bag onto one of the empty tables before Tucker could get out a single word. He stared at her as she slid into the booth and pulled out her Ipod with as much nonchalance as any other regular customer.

The bells above the door twinkled and Tucker just offered a half-hearted wave when Grif shouted he was leaving. Then Tucker ducked inside the backroom to dig his phone out of his bag without any care for the other remaining customers that sat a few tables away from Connie.

_What the fuck?!_ Tucker texted Tex once he grabbed his phone. He waited a few minutes, but the phone remained silent and still in his hand.

With a curse, he tossed the phone back into his bag and returned to the cash register. He had assumed Tex wouldn’t reply, but anger spurred the words into being. He sighed, and began cleaning up the counters for the night. Being angry when they got to Tex’s would do him no good, as it would mess up the coherency of his own thoughts without so much as irritating Tex.

Tucker finished half an hour later, and Connie waited at the door for him. Tucker locked up and then fell into step beside her with a quick glance at his silent phone that informed he would be heading over Tex’s house at half past eleven on a weeknight.

Tucker bit back his questions as they bused over to Tex’s apartment, knowing Connie wouldn’t answer them without Tex present. They both hunched their bodies against the swirling snow when not sheltered by the bus, and Connie asked him quiet questions about his own studying and Junior. She reported that her own classes was going well-enough, her family was fine, and she was still happily dating Chris. Yet her face looked as tired as North and York’s, and Tucker didn’t miss the way her fingers played with the ends of her jacket sleeves.

Connie didn’t bother knocking when they reached Tex’s unit, and Tex stood behind the kitchen counter of her open-concept apartment when they entered. Her bed rested in the far corner to the left of the entrance, the snowy night outside seen through the large window on that side.

Tucker moved past the couches and coffee table that sat in the middle of the room toward the kitchen that was located directly across from the apartment entrance. He paused across the counter from her and she gestured toward the couches. Connie took a seat silently, but Tucker remained standing by the corner of a couch while Tex moved to turn off the TV and PS4 that stood at the foot of her bed.

“If you don’t sit down, I will knock you down,” Tex said calmly as she headed to the couches. Tucker took a seat but crossed his arms and glared at her as she perched on the edge of the coffee table across from him.

Then they began to explain what at first sounded like a conspiracy theory, but when lifted up by evidence and placed alongside all the bizarre happenings at the pool, actually started to sound like a plausible reality.

They laid out a concise timeline of events for Tucker, and Tex opened her laptop to show Tucker the bits of evidence they had managed to gain while they spoke. Documents mostly stolen off the pool’s computer and even some from Leonard’s laptop. Not a single note of shame or hesitation coloured Tex’s voice when she admitted to sneaking into the Director’s office while they were there for the Christmas dinner. Likewise, Connie held herself with a straight posture and confidence in the hard set of her face.

“So, what do you think?” Connie asked once they were both done explaining.

Tucker’s hostile posture had slowly lessened into one of shock, his arms uncrossing to dangle at his side and his back slouching against the couch. He tried to keep his mouth from hanging open, or too much skepticism from pulling his lips into a large frown. To be fair, they had some evidence.

The official report about the gas leak from the police citing foul play possible but inconclusive evidence at the time. The financial discrepancies in the pool’s monthly and annual revenue reports, as well as statements about the pool’s funds. Reports from the fire department stating the fire would have been intentionally set. Countless other smaller incidents over the summer that could be overlooked if they happened on their own, but looked suspicious piled up beside mounds of other situations like them.

Extortion Tucker could swallow, but the thought of someone intentionally sabotaging their daughter’s workplace purely for the sake of testing that daughter bounced off his brain’s outer tissue and refused to seep in.

“I don’t know.” Tucker glanced between the two of them. “I mean I know Church doesn’t really get along with his uncle, and he wasn’t the warmest guy when I met him and Church was pretty unhappy that night, but what you’re talking about him doing–it’s insane.”

“I don’t think he’s been in the right mind since Allison died,” Tex replied. “This is just the latest and most severe symptom of it.”

“Allison’s been dead for more than ten years, though.”

“Some people have trouble letting things go,” Tex said. Her unspoken reference to Church’s nightmares all these years later swirled in the air between them, and Tucker remembered what Kimball had said about some people never getting over loss.

“Still, that’s just. I mean I know Church is an asshole, but if he was raised by a monster I figured he’d be–well, he’d be even worse than an asshole.”

Tucker shook his head. “But Church would never do something like that to Carolina–he loves her.”

“The Director loves her, too,” Tex said quietly, and Tucker glared at her.

“I’m sorry, are you _trying_ to say your boyfriend is a manipulative psychopath too?”

“Church _isn’t_ the Director. He’s not his uncle, he’s not his aunt, he’s not his dad or his mom or Carolina or anybody else. He’s _Church_. So what he’s capable of doing isn’t the same as what his uncle is capable of.”

Both Tucker and Connie stared at the fierce set of Tex’s eyes and the way she looked ready to snap anyone in half for arguing against her.

“Okay sorry,” Tucker said, raising his hands in front of him. “I wasn’t trying to the say they’re the exact same I just–I figured that kind of upbringing would have a bigger impact on him, you know?”

Tex sat quietly for a moment, and some of her defensiveness faded.

“Alright, I understand. But your father left you, and it didn’t cause you to leave Junior. You can’t let what you do know of the Director’s kids affect your opinion of him.”

“Alright,” Tucker agreed after a long moment of silence. “Say I believe you. How exactly does this help Wash? And what is the end goal here?”

“Epsilon dying wasn’t actually something the Director caused,” Connie said quietly. “But he didn’t tell Wash that Epsilon had epilepsy. At the start of every session we get lists of the kids in each class we’re teaching. It has their names, gender, parental contact information, and also any health concerns so we know what to watch for. Epsilon didn’t have any health concerns listed.”

“None of Vanessa’s kids did,” Tex corrected. “I’ve talked to most of the lifeguards who teach them–none of them remember the kids having health concerns on their sheets and I didn’t see one on Epsilon’s before he died. But now most of their sheets have stuff on it, including Epsilon’s.”

“How do you prove the Director did it?” Tucker asked, adopting the lifeguards’ name for Church’s uncle. “That he changed it? Hell, how do you prove he’s the one stealing from the pool?”

“We can’t right now,” Tex admitted. Her hands curled at the admission, and a glance at Connie’s face showed a similar unhappy set to her mouth. “Not unless we have copies of those sheets before Epsilon’s death. As for the money, we need to do more digging.”

She stared at him. “But you have to admit, we do have some proof for the money thing.”

“Sure, but that’s not gonna hold up in court. Not unless you get shit on his banking info and all that jazz. And you still haven’t answered my other questions.”

“Getting him fired and punished seemed a pretty obvious answer to me,” Tex replied, and Connie cut in before Tucker could snap at her.

“I don’t know how this will help Wash directly,” Connie told him. She scooted closer to him and Tucker found he couldn’t look away from her earnest gaze. “But I think Wash knows that the Director didn’t tell him about Epsilon. I think it was partly the Director’s idea for him to not work anymore. Maybe he won’t care because this won’t bring Epsilon back, but maybe he’ll be happy to get some justice for what’s been done to all of us at the pool.”

“You wanted to know what’s been going on with everyone lately,” Tex said quietly, and they both glanced at her. Tucker nodded, remembering the times he’d spilled his frustration to her in the past couple months about how distant everyone acted. “This is your answer. This is how you understand our lives and get involved for the next while. You don’t have to help us if you don’t want to. But–”

She shrugged. “That’s how you stay connected.”

Tucker studied the both of them, from the wary hope in Connie’s warm gaze to the impassive mask Tex wore. Except Tucker could see the shadows under her eyes and the stiff way she held herself as opposed to the easy confidence she normally possessed. All of her terse exhaustion finally fitted into a coherent explanation, as did the tired lines he had seen on the majority of the lifeguards’ faces recently.

He studied them, and he remembered the lifeguards’ easy chatter at the pool, their laughter at the staff parties, and all their swearing that reminded him of the Reds and Blues. He remembered York’s gentle attitude with Junior, Maine’s deadpan jokes, the grin South offered him when she shoved a shot into his hand, and the way North tried to make them feel comfortable at the staff parties. He remembered all of the things Wash had done for him and all the messages he’d sent Tucker about the pool.

Tucker remembered the scar across York’s eye, Wyoming’s pained movement after the gas poisoning, Church’s angry voice when he told him Carolina had been attacked, the exhaustion pressing on North’s shoulders, and all the radio silence emitting from Wash.

He shifted in his seat and Tex didn’t look away from his gaze. He tried to find his anger from earlier, but despite his endless complaints about Tex, Tucker couldn’t find the fury he needed to push him off the couch and out the door.

 “Fuck it,” Tucker said with a sigh. “Count me in.”

Connie grinned, and Tex’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. He shook his head at them and offered Tex another glare, but it continued to lack all the venom from earlier.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me any of this till now after all the complaining I did when you were over.”

Tex just looked at him. “Oh come on.”

She didn’t say a word, just kept staring at him as Tucker tried to tell himself the temperature in the apartment hadn’t actually dropped a few degrees. “Okay fine, I won’t yell at you for lying to my face when I told you I was worried, but I am sure as hell gonna go rip Church a new one for snapping at me about Wash while he was fucking scheming–”

“Church doesn’t know,” Tex cut him off, and Tucker stopped.

“What?” he asked, wondering just how many more surprises he could take before his brain shut down completely for the night. He looked between the two of them but Connie said nothing, just glanced over at the calm Tex.

“I haven’t told him any of this.”

“But–” He stopped and reconsidered his next few words when Tex narrowed her gaze at him. “Okay I get not needing to tell him everything about your life and shit, but you’re talking about getting his uncle arrested.”

“Exactly.” She tilted her head when Tucker gave her a confused look. “Would you tell Wash if you thought his dad was intentionally sabotaging his workplace as a test until you were positive that’s what was happening?”

Tucker went still, thinking about how much love he had heard in Wash’s voice when he talked about his parents. He had seen the adoration and respect lining Wash’s face when he first showed Tucker pictures, and even though Wash’s text messages over the break had been significantly lacking in detail, Tucker knew Wash’s parents did everything they could to help him during the holiday.

While Tucker knew Church didn’t get along with his uncle and saw the negative sentiments firsthand over Christmas break, he knew by that point that Church grew up with the man as a father figure. Church still had dinner with him and still went over to his house, and if it had only been because of Carolina, Church could have always invited her back to the apartment.

If the only emotion Church felt toward his uncle had been hate, Tucker knew his roommate would have cut the man out of his life completely. No more phone calls or text messages or family dinners or inviting friends to said family dinners.

“Okay,” Tucker said quietly, and tried not to think about how this could all come back to bite him in the ass later. “I guess I can understand that. Having him on our side would probably make things a lot easier in terms of banking stuff though, just saying. He does have more access than you guys.”

“Trust us, we are aware,” Connie said, exhaustion dragging at her voice.

“We’ll tell him when the time’s right,” Tex said, and Tucker knew that meant when _she_ felt like the time was right, and not any time before.

A knock at the door prevented them from saying anything more. Neither Connie nor Tex seemed surprised by the noise, and Tex just shouted for the people to come in while Tucker’s gaze swung to the opening door.

The Dakota twins and York walked through a second later, a large grin crossing South’s face when she caught sight of Tucker and his gaping mouth. York and North stopped to take off their jackets before heading further into the apartment, but South just stalked forward. She tossed a backpack on the ground as she headed over to the couches, snow dusting her hair and shoulders.

“‘Bout time you got involved, shortie,” South said, plopping down into the space between Connie and Tucker.

Connie moved over to give her more space while she wriggled out of her jacket and hung it over the back of the couch. Without saying a word, North hurried by a second later and grabbed the jacket as Tex glared at it.

“I don’t–” Tucker whirled on Tex while North carried his twin’s coat over to the others. “Wait, you told them but not me? What the hell, Tex?”

“They teach Epsilon’s friends,” Tex said, and Tucker felt his stomach sink at the thought of Kimball’s kids. “And we thought it was best not to include anyone until we were sure they’d be okay with going against their own boss.”

“Easy when it turns out your boss is grade-A douchebag,” South said, glee in her eyes despite the hard tone of her voice.

Tucker leaned away an inch, glancing at her twin as he moved to stand by Tex.

“Sorry, Tucker,” North said, and offered him a slight smile. “Connie and Tex thought it would be best to increase the numbers slowly, and they’ve been doing this longer than we have.”

“And we didn’t know if you’d want to get involved,” York added from where he moved about the kitchen making coffee.

“Speaking of which, y’all owe me twenty bucks,” South drawled. She rested both arms on the backrest of the couch and offered the unimpressed Tex a smirk. “Even you, Miss Queen Bitch.”

“You guys made _bets_ about this?” Tucker said, and his earlier anger struggled to surface through the exhaustion.

“Those two make bets about everything,” Connie replied, gesturing to North and South as North reluctantly handed South some cash. “And then they drag the rest of us along for the ride.”

“I don’t think I have any money on me right now,” York called from the kitchen. Tucker narrowly missed getting an elbow to the face as South whirled around to give him a glare.

“Pay up now or I take the other fucking eye.”

“You spill blood in here, you clean it,” Tex said.

South just continued to glare at York until he grabbed his wallet from his jacket while grumbling the whole time. Tucker watched Tex grab money from her dresser to give South, and then York returned to the kitchen to grab the coffee as the others moved to sit. The coffee table accepted Tex’s weight again without a single groan, and Tucker glanced around at all of them as the smell of freshly brewed coffee started to drift through the air.

“It’s nearly one in the fucking morning,” Tucker commented when Tex didn’t immediately say anything more. “Do you guys always do meetings this late?”

“Tex texted us at eleven and told us to come over around twelve-thirty,” North offered, and Tucker shook his head as all of their yawning and tired gazes at the pool suddenly made sense.

“Jesus Christ, you guys are insane.”

Tex just rolled her eyes as North took a seat beside Connie on the increasingly cramped couch. South leaned across Connie to shove at him, but her twin didn’t move, and Tucker tried to shift into a more comfortable position despite the lack of space. “You might us well just get the whole fucking water polo team over here too.”

Tucker straightened in his seat as his tired brain lit up at the sudden idea triggered by his words. “Oh holy shit.”

“No,” Tex said before Tucker could get out another syllable. Everyone turned to look at them in confusion and Tucker just grinned.

“Why the hell not, you’ve already got most of the lifeguarding staff here. The more people we have looking at this, the more likely it is we’ll find something, right?”

Understanding dawned on all the others’ faces, and they glanced at each other as Tex stared at Tucker.

“At this point, we could use as many different connections and skills as possible,” North said into the quiet after a few seconds.

“And they are at the pool for a pretty long time in the morning,” York said slowly, propping his elbows up on the kitchen counters. “They might have noticed stuff we haven’t.”

“That Red nerd was bragging about his computer hacking shit at the staff party,” South said, and Tucker already felt bad for Simmons just seeing the grin on South’s face. “And his boyfriend has a bunch of snazzy video cameras we could use.”

“Will they want to get involved?” Connie asked, looking between all of them. She had never met the others, but Tucker knew the lifeguards or Wash had to have told her all about them.  

“Hell yeah they will,” Tucker said, enthusiasm fuelled by all the messages and questions he had received from the Reds and Blues about Wash’s welfare. “Maybe Wash just wanted us to take water polo seriously, but he’s one of the Reds and Blues now and nobody fucks with us except for each other. Even Sarge will agree with me.”

“He _is_ always saying something like that,” Tex agreed with a slight frown.

“And if they need convincing, then we’ll convince them,” Tucker said. He made his gaze as pleading as possible when he met Tex’s stare.

Everyone stayed quiet as Tex considered Tucker’s suggestion for a long moment.

She offered him a slow smirk.

“Alright,” Tex said. “Let’s see what they say.”

***

  **Tuesday, February 13 th, 66 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

They gathered at Grif’s apartment Tuesday night. All of the Reds and Blues except for Church, and Tucker had made sure to walk over with Caboose just to be sure he wouldn’t blab to Church.

Tex joined them armed with a laptop, but she told Tucker beforehand he would be doing most of the talking as it was his idea to get them all involved. Tucker accepted the responsibility easily enough, standing in front of all of them as they crowded around the sagging couch by the TV in the main room.

“What’s this all about, Blue?” Sarge asked.

He leaned against the back wall with his arms crossed over his chest rather than sit with all of them. Grif had claimed a spot on the couch, but Kai and Donut were the ones who crowded on the cushions beside him where Simmons normally sat. The redhead sat on the floor furthest away from Grif instead, Lopez and Sheila occupying the floor space between them. Caboose anxiously stared up at Tucker where he sat by Tex’s side as she set up her laptop.

“Yeah, some of us have important shit to do like nap and procrastinate,” Grif said.

There were half empty pizza boxes scattered in front of Tucker, as Kai and Caboose declared they couldn’t have a super-secret meeting without take-out. Donut still munched happily on a slice and Kai cradled a Coke in her lap. The rest of the pop cans were shoved into a corner by the coffee table Donut always studied at.

“This is important, alright?” Tucker said, shoving his hands into his jean pockets and trying not to step on any of game console wires spewing from the TV behind him. “It’s about Wash.”

That had most of them straightening in their seats, Simmons looking up from where he rested his chin on his drawn up knees.

“Is Washington going to play with us again?” Caboose asked hopefully, and even Kai leaned forward a little more in anticipation of the answer.

“No, Caboose, not yet.” The water polo player’s shoulders hunched at the answer, and even Sarge shot Caboose a troubled glance at the obvious distress in his face. “But the other lifeguards need our help.”

Tucker saw Tex make a face at that, but true to her word, she didn’t try to derail Tucker’s enlistment attempts.

“The super scary, badass lifeguards need _our_ help,” Simmons said, and Tucker tried not to let his confidence falter at the skepticism in Simmons’ voice. “Not only do they need our help, they actually admitted to you that they needed our help?”

“Some people are actually okay with getting help from friends,” Grif said without so much as a glance in Simmons’ general direction.

Simmons’ face went red at that, but he didn’t snap back. He simply sat there stiffly, gaze carefully averted and focused on anywhere but Grif.

The sight gave Tucker a headache, but he didn’t comment. The two of them had been acting off since the argument Tucker witnessed in the café. The more time passed, the more Tucker found himself strangely impressed with Grif’s ability to still wrap a lazy, apathetic air around his entire body. If Tucker hadn’t seen the hurt shoving the man’s shoulders into a hunch and his lips into a frown, Tucker would have thought he didn’t give a damn that he and Simmons were no longer on speaking terms. Simmons, on the other hand, made himself easy to read in his sudden stiffness around Grif and refusal to look at him, let alone speak with him as they normally did.

Tucker spotted Sarge looking between the two of them with a frown. Given the two’s lack of communication with each other at practice, Tucker wasn’t surprised Sarge had noticed something was very wrong.

But this meeting wasn’t about them, and they didn’t have time to solve everyone’s relationship issues in one evening.

“Their boss is fucking with the pool so he can test Carolina’s readiness for the RCMP,” Tucker said.

He had argued with Tex that after months of secrets and sparsely detailed messages, a direct approach would be their best method. She had simply shrugged, and the other lifeguards left it up to him.

“What’s the RCMB?” Caboose asked at the same time Kai said,

“Carolina as in Church’s cousin?”

“As in the boss’ _daughter_?” Grif said, and Caboose frowned.

“You should never be mean to your family,” he announced with all the certainty of a scientist speaking about well-known laws of physics.

“Carolina is both the daughter of the Director of the pool and Church’s first cousin,” Sheila clarified for everyone. “The RCMP, Caboose, are the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. They are like police officers, but instead of catching bad guys in one city, they catch them across the whole country.”

“That’s even _worse_ than a normal cop,” Kai muttered.

“Okay, focus,” Tucker said, and tried not to stumble over how much he sounded like Wash in that moment. “Carolina plans on taking the test for the RCMP almost a week from now. Except a job like that can be really dangerous and her mom already died in the military. So because he’s completely fucked up by that and also apparently just a really off-balance person, her dad–the Director as the lifeguards call him because they’re fucking weirdos–has been causing dangerous situations at the pool to test her abilities. Slide sabotage, gas leaks, fire, drunk assholes fighting her–that kinda shit.”

All of them frowned at Tucker but none of them dismissed or interrupted him right away. “He’s also been stealing a shit-ton of money from the pool and city. Probably other shady stuff too, but that’s what’s important and what Tex and Connie have been trying to figure out.”

Everyone’s gazes shot to Tex, and the frowns on Kai and Sheila’s faces deepened. Tucker had wondered if Tex was keeping them in the loop, but based on how upset Kai looked at that revelation, they had been as clueless as Church currently was.

“So why get us involved?” Grif cut in. He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted closer to his sister.

“Cuz Tucker barrelled his way into the situation in all his lovesick glory,” Tex muttered.

“Cuz this means Wash was also getting fucked with and he’s one of us,” Tucker said, stubbornly ignoring Tex’s interjection. “He’s our coach and I’m betting he won’t ever feel comfortable coming back to the pool with the current crazy ass boss there.”

“Dude, he’s probably never gonna be comfortable going back there cuz a kid he taught _died_ ,” Grif argued. “S’not like this is gonna fix that.”

“I know that,” Tucker snapped, and then took a deep breath. “I know that. But it’s _something_ , and that’s better than sitting on our fucking asses waiting for Wash to magically start talking to us again and all the shit at the pool to get better.”

“I’ll help,” Kai said quietly into the ensuing silence. Grif’s gaze snapped to his younger sister, and Tucker thought he saw a hint of a smile on Tex’s lips.

“Kai,” Grif began, and she glared at him.

“I like the lifeguards,” she interrupted loudly. When her brother didn’t immediately snap back at that, she looked around at all of them in turn as she continued. “I like South, I like North, I like York and Maine and Wyoming and Florida. I like Carolina and I like Tex. And even Wash isn’t too bad for an old cop.”

She leaned forward in her seat. “So if they think their boss is fucking with them, then I want to help them make it stop.”

“Hell yeah,” Tucker said with a grin. He offered her an open palm that she high-fived in an instant. “Knew you’d be on my side.”

She snorted.

“Please, I’m on my girls’ side. You’re just lucky to be on the same side.”

“If Kai and Tex are already involved in this effort, then I see no reason why I should not assist them,” Sheila said, and both girls shot her an appreciative smile. “Tex is rarely wrong, and if the majority of the lifeguards think something bad is happening, it stands to reason that there must be something wrong with the situation at the pool.”

“S’not like us Reds to ever run away from a fight,” Sarge announced, and took a step off the wall. Tucker forced himself not to take a step back at the maniacal gleam in Sarge’s eyes.

“Speak for yourself,” Grif muttered, but Sarge just ignored him with a grin.

“And like you said, Washington’s one of ours, and ain’t nobody gets to mess with this set of Blues or Reds ‘cept me.”

“No man gets left behind!” Donut said cheerfully.

_“Esto no puede ser cualquier estúpido que todos sus otros planes.”_ ( _This can’t possibly be any stupider than all your other plans._ ) 

“I want to be part of the party too!” Caboose insisted. “And see Washington again!”

Tucker grinned at all of them and the excited atmosphere that warmed the small room as everyone shifted in their seats with eager expressions. Even Tex started to smile a little, shaking her head at Tucker when he stuck out his tongue at her with a smug look.

“Well, guys?” Tucker said as his gaze moved between the silent Grif and Simmons. “What do you say? We could use your questionable skills.”

Everyone but Tex turned expectant gazes to the two Reds. Tex simply leaned back on her elbows while Kai began to nudge her brother in the gut over and over again.

“I can feel Sarge glaring a hole in the back of my head,” Grif grumbled, and Sarge just took a step closer. “You know what? Fine, fuck all of you. I’m in.”

Everyone but Tucker, Sarge, and Tex cheered. Then they turned their attention to Simmons who steadily grew more and more flushed under their stares.

“Come on, Simmons,” Donut needled, and scooted closer to his teammate without moving off the couch. “It will be fun!”

“How is illegally snooping through an apparently psychotic man’s computer and attempting to get him arrested while not getting arrested ourselves fun?” Simmons demanded, and Sarge shrugged behind him.

“It’s like my army days all over again?”

“Bullshit,” Grif said, at the same time Simmons sighed and closed his eyes.

“Fine,” Simmons said reluctantly a few seconds later. Kai lunged toward him to give him a hug as he opened his eyes to glare at Tucker. “You’re taking all the blame for this if something goes wrong, though.”

“That’s Tex and Connie’s job,” Tucker replied, even though he knew Tex would make him pay for the comment later.

“I call telling Church about this first!” Caboose called.

Tucker and Tex glanced at each other, and everyone else stared at them. A frown appeared on all of their faces as Caboose simply continued to smile around the cramped room.

“He does not know,” Sheila said quietly, and Tex nodded.

“You haven’t told your own boyfriend you’re trying to arrest his uncle?” Grif demanded, and the anger sparking in his voice had Kai frowning at him.

Tex just stared at him but for once, Grif didn’t back down. When he just kept glaring at her and confused silence settled on everyone else, she finally replied.

“Funny, I don’t think I’ve ever given you shit about your relationship with Simmons,” she said, and Tucker cut in hastily before Grif could start shouting at her.

“If we tell him this without definite proof he’s just gonna deny it,” Tucker offered. “Or we have him thinking his uncle is trying to hurt his cousin and then end up being wrong and causing a huge fucking mess in his family.”

Grif glanced at him, and everyone looked back and forth between Grif’s angry expression and Tex’s hostile one. Tucker wanted to snap at Tex for pissing Grif off further rather than just give him the same reasons she gave Tucker right away, but knew that would only make things worse. More arguments were not what he wanted to deal with, and he was slowly starting to realize Tex’s usual impassivity to their insults was crumbling with each passing day for a reason Tucker couldn’t see.

The apartment was neither the time nor place to parse through that thought, though, and Tucker sighed when Grif finally dropped his glare. Tex still looked ready to kill, but some of the tension wrapped around her body uncoiled and then melted to the floor.

“Bitch,” Grif muttered, but Tex didn’t immediately go for his crotch so Tucker considered the argument resolved.

“So we don’t tell Church.” Tucker looked at each of them in turn and then settled his gaze on Caboose as the younger man bit his lip. “None of us. Got it, Caboose?”

“But Church is my best friend,” Caboose protested, and Sheila placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I cannot keep secrets from my best friend.”

“You can if it’s protecting them,” Tex said, before Tucker could argue with Caboose. “You want to keep Church safe don’t you, Caboose?”

If Tex felt at all bad for manipulating Caboose, she didn’t show it. She simply shifted closer to the blond water polo player and kept her gaze locked on his face. Caboose kept biting his lip, but he seemed to be considering Tex’s words. “Best friends protect each other, right?”

“Yes,” Caboose said with a nod. “They always make sure the road is safe before crossing together and they are not cold when they sleep.”

“Right,” Tex said, not even blinking at Caboose’s odd phrasing. After spending two years with him, she was just as accustomed to him as she was all the Reds and Blues. “And this is the same thing. We’re not telling him about this so he doesn’t get hurt.”

“Carolina doesn’t know either,” Tucker told them, and that drew more puzzled outbursts. “Come on, if you think this is gonna mess up Church, how do you think Carolina’s gonna feel?”

“Her RCMP exam is in less than a week,” Tex said, repeating what York brought up when Tucker first asked about her on Thursday night. “And she needs to do well on it to get in. Telling her all this shit about her dad isn’t going to help her–it might even make her fail.”

“So we don’t tell her until after her exam is done,” Tucker finished, for York wouldn’t allow her to be kept in the dark any longer than necessary. “Other than that, Wyoming and Florida aren’t in at all. York, South, North, Maine, Connie, and Tex are all in the know. Everyone got that?”

“Sounds simple enough,” Sarge said, and everyone around them slowly nodded.

“Yeah yeah,” Kai said. She grabbed another slice of pizza and took a huge bite before grinning at Tucker. “So where do we start?”

***

**Saturday, February 17** ** th ** **, 70 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

Wash still wasn’t talking to Tucker much and Junior was away for the weekend.

Tucker stared up at his ceiling late Saturday afternoon as he tried to ignore just how miserable he felt and the growing pile of homework towering precariously on the edge of his desk. His cell phone lay on his bedside table, emitting five hours of silence despite the text message he had sent Wash six hours ago.

Nobody else was in the apartment at the moment to distract Tucker, for Junior’s grandparents had insisted on taking him to a ski resort with them for the weekend. Junior had been so excited by the prospect, Tucker didn’t have the heart to argue. Nor did he have the energy to impose on the outing knowing Junior’s grandparents would just give him the stink eye the whole time, made even worse by the fact that Tucker couldn’t snowboard or ski.

Technically, he had a major project that should be taking up most of his time. Instead he lay in bed and occasionally refreshed his Facebook page to see if anyone had messaged him. The Reds and Blues had started a new thread with the lifeguards that excluded Church so they could discuss plans and post any updates about the Director.

So far there hadn’t been much activity. Simmons had pointed out that even if he did have good hacking skills, he still needed access to the computers themselves to get files off them and that hacking a bank account wasn’t really something he had experience in. While the Counsellor was another possible point of investigation, nobody knew anything about him or the personal technology he owned.

They needed Church and Carolina. For the personal connection and because, as Simmons had also pointed out, Church knew even more about hacking than Simmons did. That’s what Tucker wanted to insist, but when he brought it up again on Wednesday, Tex merely shut him down. Tucker hadn’t fought back hard, but now stewing in his own frustration and loneliness with no reply from Wash and no gain against the Director, Tucker felt the desire to argue grow.

Worse, he could feel a resentment that had been only a weak shadow days ago growing into dark chunks that lodged themselves in his arteries and spewed burning poison into his heart. Each day that passed with only sparse text messages from Wash and the longer Tucker remained in inactivity, the stronger the feeling became.

A loud thump and then the sound of Church swearing startled Tucker out of his thoughts. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and when his roommate continued to swear, Tucker climbed to his feet.

Tucker stopped in his doorway to stare at his roommate where he had just returned home from the campus library. Textbooks spilled from the backpack lying on the floor, and pop slowly seeped into their pages as Church clutched his shin.

“What–”

“I dropped my stupid fucking bag and when I went to pick up the piece of shit, I hit my fucking shin on this motherfucking stupid ass table and spilled that fucking pop everywhere, and I am going to throw your dumb ass out the window for leaving–”

He continued to swear and shout at Tucker as Tucker stared. Finally Tucker sighed and went into the kitchen to grab some paper towel for the spilled pop. Church gathered up his textbooks while still swearing, and Tucker went to work mopping up the liquid from the floor and small table they’d recently placed at one end of the couch.

Once the paper towel was in the garbage and Church calmed down slightly, Tucker studied his roommate from the kitchen doorway as Church dragged his laptop over to the couch and sat down. He kept rubbing at his red eyes as he squinted at his laptop screen, and the clothes he wore were crumpled as if he’d picked them out of his laundry basket that morning. Tucker didn’t think his hair had seen a shower in days, and though Tucker always teased him for being pasty, he looked like all the blood had been drained from him.

“Dude, you look like shit,” Tucker said, but Church just grunted at him. “You calling it an early night?”

Church laughed, and Tucker felt his stomach knot at the tones of hysteria and bitterness colouring the sarcastic sound.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“You’re not done that project from last night?” Tucker asked, and watched the way Church’s fingers trembled slightly over the black keys of the keyboard.

“I am,” Church said.

“Then why do you need to stay up?”

“Why are you giving me the third degree?” Church said, twisting around to give Tucker a glare. The swollenness of his eyes detracted from the threat in a way that made Tucker feel sick. “I’m not tired, and that’s all I need to fucking tell you.”

He turned back around, and Tucker wanted to laugh at Church’s attempt to firmly end the discussion given the way his roommate’s voice rasped in its exhaustion. Instead Tucker studied his roommate’s hunched back and thought of his silent phone resting in the darkness of his room. He thought of the shouting and loud thumps that woke him up last night, and the steady decline of everyone’s health that he had been forced to watch since Epsilon died.

Tucker didn’t say another word to Church, just grabbed his jacket and wallet before heading out the door to the bus stop.

_I’m coming over,_ he texted Tex, shoving his phone back into his pocket without giving a single care for her answer. Hail started to pound around him as he got onto the bus, still pouring down when he raced from the bus stop to Tex’s apartment.

Tex opened the door when he banged his fist on it, and didn’t say a word as he stormed inside. She shut the door behind them and then turned around to give him an expectant look.

“We need to tell Church,” Tucker said without any preamble. “We need to tell him now. Not after we tell Carolina, not when you decide the time is right– _now_.”

Tex slowly started to head over to the kitchen counter while Tucker tried to recover his breath.

“We’ve already had this conversation,” Tex said, turning to face him from across the kitchen island.

“Well we’re having it again,” Tucker snapped, not moving any closer to her, but not sitting down either. “We’re not getting anywhere without more access to the Director and Church and Carolina are the ones who can give it to us. But even ignoring that very logical reason, we still need to tell Church now because he is fucking losing it.”

Distance loomed between them, and Tucker took a single step forward. “He’s getting more nightmares, he’s forcing himself not to sleep cuz of that, he’s–”

“You think I haven’t noticed all of that already?” Tex interrupted, the gaze she kept locked on Tucker bright with an emotion Tucker couldn’t identify. “I have, but that still doesn’t help me understand the fucking nonsense coming out of your mouth.”

“He’s gotten worse since Epsilon!” Tucker snapped, frustration mounting inside of him even as his brain whispered yelling at Tex would only hurt him. “Normally he gets better at sleeping and less moody over the break, but he didn’t this year because some kid died at the pool you guard at and we all swim at and I bet my entire fucking apartment that’s what’s making all his nightmares and insomnia worse.”

“I still don’t see how–”

“You don’t think that telling him that we’re all doing something to stop these accidents and stop anyone from getting hurt might help with his anxieties? You don’t think his girlfriend assuring him that she’s making sure the pool is safer and that she and his cousin are safer will make him feel better about this whole goddamn mess?”

“You don’t have any proof it _would_ make him better. For all we know, he’ll just get more worried because we’re putting ourselves in a situation that could get very messy, very fast.”

“That doesn’t–” Tucker shook his head as his thoughts moved so quickly they all careened into each other and tore apart any coherency. “You don’t–I’m pretty sure he’s noticed his girlfriend’s been more tired and distracted lately and disappearing at weird times, and knowing the reason for all of that would fucking _help_.”

“I haven’t been disappearing at odd times.”

“But you _are_ more tired and distracted!”

“You don’t have proof it will help,” Tex repeated, and Tucker could hear her own frustration breaking through her voice.

She glanced toward the window as a particularly heavy piece of hail thumped against the glass, and Tucker stared at her. A petulant stubbornness Tucker and Church rarely saw lined Tex’s face, and his brain struggled to understand what Tex was refusing to say. He could sense a connection between the way she kept shutting down Tucker’s suggestions and the way she had snapped at Grif, but the pieces of the puzzle were moving too slowly into place.

The Blackberry resting on the counter between them chimed with a message from Church, and the small sound pushed away all the empty quiet of the apartment’s interior for a single second.

All the pieces snapped into place as suddenly as an elastic band breaking.

“You’re scared he’ll break up with you,” Tucker blurted.

The way the words rested heavy on his tongue and Tex jerked her silent and sharp gaze toward him made him realize they were true.

“You have ten seconds to rephrase that,” she said quietly after a beat of silence.

“Well I’m not fucking going to,” Tucker snapped, all of his frustration over everyone’s constant refusal to genuinely talk about everything that was tearing them apart finally reaching a breaking point. “You know why? Because I’m fucking right. You’re scared that maybe you weren’t actually right to keep quiet about it for so long and that’s what you’ll find out once you tell Church. You’re scared he won’t listen to you and you won’t admit it even if you are wrong and he won’t forgive you and you’ll both end up screaming at each other until it ends in a break-up. And you can’t deal with that right now because you’re just as tired as the rest of us, and maybe it was fine when you guys first started dating, but it’s been two years now and we’re as much of your friends as Sheila is. And maybe Church needs you more, but that doesn’t mean you don’t fucking need him too.”

Tucker took a deep breath after he finished, and Tex stared at him from behind the kitchen counters. In the sudden pause, Tucker could hear the pattering of the hail on the windows and a car’s alarm blaring below.

“And you’re scared Wash won’t ever want to even be friends with you after all of this,” Tex replied.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re scared you’re in too deep already and not getting to see him again will fuck both you and Junior over permanently. But the thing you’re most scared about is how resentful it’s making you. Because you know you’re an asshole, but now you’re started to think you’re so selfish you can’t even focus on someone else’s grief over your own fucking loneliness.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not right about you being scared,” Tucker shot back.

He didn’t bother attempting to hide his flinch or mask how deep her words resonated with him. She had become an expert in reading both Tucker and Church after only a few months of hanging out with them, and Tucker knew she wouldn’t be honest with him if he tried to be dishonest.

“You’re lucky I’ve been putting up with you for two years,” Tex finally said, and she uncrossed her arms. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to punch you for trying to throw that in my face.”

“Because you would have totally listened to me if I hadn’t,” Tucker snorted, and he caught a glimpse of amusement in her eyes.

She moved out from behind the kitchen counter and took a seat on the couch without a word. Tucker followed her, though he chose to stand across the coffee table from her rather than try to calm his nervous energy enough to sit down.

“The kid–Epsilon–had a massive crush on me,” Tex said after a long pause. She looked up at Tucker and then didn’t look away. “Was as good at hiding it as Church was. He couldn’t stop blushing when I looked at a photo he’d taken.”

“Wash said he liked photography,” Tucker remembered, and Tex nodded.

“He was good at it. Must have spent hours trying to get the photos he wanted. The one I saw, he was already looking at contrast and motion and colour. He could have been fucking amazing.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Tucker asked when Tex fell quiet. “Not that I think you shouldn’t talk about it but–”

“Because, Tucker,” Tex said, “Church isn’t the only one who gets nightmares.”

Tucker stared at her and she gazed right back.

“Fucking hell,” Tucker said, and he sank onto the seat beside her as his nervous energy collapsed into exhaustion all at once.

“Shit’s fucked,” Tex agreed.

Neither one of them spoke for a long while, Tucker leaning his head on the back of the couch and staring up at the ceiling as they listened to the hail outside. When Tex punched him in the shoulder as hard as she could without warning, Tucker went falling away with a curse. Tex didn’t say anything, but she didn’t try to punch him again when he returned to his earlier position, so he simply clutched his shoulder and ignored her satisfied smirk.

“I still think we should tell him now,” Tucker said awhile later. He lifted his head to watch the shadows painting the walls and wondered if it was also hailing near their apartment. “He’s just gonna be madder the longer we wait to tell him and he’s got more access to the Director than any of us.”

Tucker glanced over at her. He had never heard Tex sigh before, but the expression on her face made him think she was as close to one as she would ever get around him.

“When?” she simply asked.

“When’s our next meeting with everyone?”

“Tomorrow night, after the evening rec swim.”

“When the fuck were you gonna tell me that?”

“Now,” Tex replied, and Tucker saw the familiar hints of a smirk on her face.

“Fuck you. But fine, let’s tell him before that. I’ll even talk to him first if you want.”

“Offering yourself up as the first target? How noble.”

“As if, I just want to see what he has to say before you two get into a shouting match,” Tucker said, and Tex tilted her head in concession.

“Alright,” Tex agreed. “I’ll send a message to everyone over Facebook.”

They fell quiet again, and Tucker looked out the window with a sour expression directed at the hail and snow that fell. He fingered the bus pass in his pocket but didn’t move from his slouched position on the couch.

“You wanna watch _Indiana Jones_ till the weather stops throwing a hissy fit?” Tex asked after neither of them made any effort to move.

Tucker grinned for the first time that day.

“Do you even have to ask?”

***

  **Sunday, February 18 th, 71 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

  
“North said going with Theta to his therapy sessions seems to be working,” Tex told Carolina.

They stood in the hallway running behind the guardroom just outside of the guardroom door. Carolina’s shift had just ended and the two were exchanging information before Tex took over for the latter half of the afternoon and the evening swim. Once Carolina had given her a quick  
report on how the morning had gone, Tex stopped her departure to discuss Vanessa and her kids.

“And Vanessa said they all appreciated the cards,” Tex continued. She leaned against the wall, black manager's shirt already on while Carolina’s winter jacket now covered hers.

“Iota and Eta were really happy when they got a chance to see me last Sunday,” Carolina said.

She turned her body back toward Tex from where she’d started to head away and down the hallway, gym bag slung over shoulder. “You think we should start doing the visits Vanessa suggested now?”

“Don’t you?” Tex asked, and Carolina couldn’t find any hostile challenge in her bright gaze. Just honest curiosity about Carolina’s genuine opinion.

“It’s worth trying,” Carolina replied, and then hoisted her bag higher. “We’ll talk to the others about it at in-service Friday.”

Tex nodded and when she didn’t say anything more, Carolina started to head off again. Her mind already started shifting focus to the practice exam waiting for her at home and the time tomorrow when her registration link stated she was eligible to complete and submit the actual online RCMP exam. The application process would be far from over after that, but nobody could advance any further in that process until they passed the entrance exam, and Carolina wouldn’t accept needing to take it a second time.

“Carolina.” Carolina turned back at Tex’s voice and for the first time since Carolina had met her, she saw hesitation on Tex’s face.

“Good luck on your exam,” Tex finally said, and then offered Carolina a full smile. “Kick its ass.”

“I will,” Carolina replied, and then walked away before she could start to ask Tex what it was she had really wanted to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a surprising number of articles about rival companies working together. War Amps of Canada is a real Canadian organization whose goal is to serve all amputees of Canada, including war amputees (which it was originally founded by) and child amputees. Funding for its various programs is gained through donations and there is a Corporate Donor program that Kimball and Doyle's companies took part in within this universe.
> 
> Animal-assisted therapy can be used to help form positive relationships with other people, to increase comfort levels, to help self-expression and to help build a mutual rapport between the therapist and patient. This is especially true for children as animals can provide an emotional/social support system since the animal is generally seen as non-judgmental. Plus, while occupied with the animal a therapist can monitor the child's general emotional state and use indirect interviewing to gain more information about the child's well-being. 
> 
> I am doing my best to portray both the children's and Wash's grief as well as any PTSD they are suffering from as accurately as possible based on research and peoples' personal experience. I am eternally grateful to one of my close friends for talking with me extensively about her experience and what I should be keeping in mind when writing about characters with PTSD, especially in this fic's situation. That being said, I apologize if anything I have written in either this chapter or the next one ends up being inaccurate or offensive to anyone. Please don't hesitate to tell me if that is the case. 
> 
> Two new relationships added because I am total shipper trash (I swear that is the last of them though). 
> 
> Thank you for all of your comments and continued support. At this point there are actually only two or three chapters left (very long ones though). This has been such a wild ride and I never could have predicted the way it played out, but I am so happy with the way it did. The next chapter might also be a bit delayed as I will be at Fanexpo for the rest of this week/weekend without my laptop (stupid thing already needs to be fixed after less than a year!) and my classes will be starting again soon after. But I promise we are close to the end and I have absolutely no intention of leaving all of you lovely people hanging.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know what, no, Tucker,” Church snarled without looking at him. “I want you to stay so I can find out exactly how fucking long the two of you have been working behind my fucking back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red Rain=type of energy drink
> 
> I have three amazing pieces of art to share with all of you this time! First there is Theta and Epsilon by thewolvesrunwild:  
> http://thewolvesrunwild.tumblr.com/post/128377978322/my-teacher-told-us-that-memories-arent-actually  
> http://thewolvesrunwild.tumblr.com/post/128381434262/there-is-no-sadness-in-of-lifeguards-and-water
> 
> And then the confrontation between Tucker and Wash from chapter 31 by Coin/Kitsanil: http://sta.sh/0cvlvzdq8p1
> 
> Thank you so much for these pieces!! They have also been added to the corresponding chapters.

**Sunday, February 18 th, 71 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

Tucker waited until Sunday evening to speak with Church about the Director and the lifeguards’ plans. His roommate looked much healthier than he had the other day, part of that no doubt stemming from the fact that Tex had come back to the apartment with Tucker, taken one look at Church, and then made him stay in his room with her from eight pm onward. She banished the laptop to the kitchen and Tucker didn’t see them for the rest of the night after retreating to his own room.

Tex and all the others agreed to meet at Tucker and Church’s apartment after the recreational swim that ended at eight pm. So being the typical procrastinator and growing more concerned about how quick Church would be to kill him the longer he thought about how mad his friend would be, Tucker approached Church at eight o’clock.

Church sat on their couch playing Halo with his plate from dinner still resting on the floor beside him. He didn’t look away from the screen when Tucker exited his room or when Tucker took a seat on the couch beside him.

“I need to talk to you,” Tucker said, figuring the direct approach he used with the Reds and Blues would work best with Church too.

Church just grunted at him and kept smashing the buttons on his controller. It didn’t do him much help, and Tucker watched his avatar run for cover. “You’re not gonna want to multitask for this one, dude.”

As if to prove Tucker’s point, Church got shot only a second later and he cursed as his character died. With a scowl, he paused the game and turned to Tucker. The scowl lessened a fraction when he met Tucker’s gaze, and he placed the controller in his lap.

“Jesus Christ, did someone else die?” Church asked, uncertainty poking through his joking tone at whatever expression Tucker wore on his face.

“No,” Tucker said, and then hesitated. He had come up with a million different ways to start this conversation, but now sitting in the room with Church staring at him expectantly he felt all of them shrivel and fade away on the tip of his tongue. “It’s about your uncle.”

The scowl returned to Church’s face full-force at that, but a little bit of the uncertainty remained lurking in his hard gaze.

“What about him?” Church asked, and Tucker could see him already beginning to tuck away any genuine and more vulnerable emotions where nobody would be able to see them. The sight made Tucker panic, and he blurted out the truth before he could consider making any attempt to soften the words.

“I think he’s fucking with the pool and I want to stop him.”

Church blinked at him.

“You–what?”

“I know it seems crazy, but I have proof. I think he’s been screwing with the equipment and safety standards in order to test all the lifeguards there, see if they can handle it, you know? Like when there was that gas leak and the fire and those drunk assholes vandalizing the place. And I don’t think he’s been getting all of his money legally.”

When Church just kept staring at him, Tucker said, “Look I know that sounds completely insane–”

“No,” Church interrupted slowly. “Him doing something like that actually doesn’t sound that unreasonable.”

Tucker gaped at him and not for the first time, he wondered about all the details of Church’s childhood after his aunt died. His roommate glanced at the TV screen and then with a sigh, exited the game completely. Then he turned his tired gaze back to Tucker. “So is that all you wanted? Warn me that you’ve realized he’s actually not the generous man you thought he was at Christmas?”

“No,” Tucker said, trying not to let the bitterness twisting Church’s voice trip him up. “I wanted to tell you I’m going to try and prove all of this and bring it to the police. Call him out on his bullshit, and see if you’ll help me.”

His friend’s entire body went still at that, and it took Tucker a few seconds to realize the emotion twisting his mouth downward and making his eyes wide wasn’t anger. It was fear.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Tucker demanded when his friend stayed silent and still like a mouse trying not to be spotted by a hawk circling above. “Did he–did he hurt you or something?”

“What? No!” Some of Church’s normal bite returned to his voice, but his shoulders remained hunched as if preparing to be hit. “But he’s–he hasn’t been mentally stable since Allison died. He’s not someone you want to mess around with, Tucker. Christ, doesn’t the fact that I’m not surprised by your assumption tell you that?”

Tucker relaxed slightly, not knowing what he would have done with a revelation involving such abuse, especially if it had been something Tex already knew.

“So does that mean you’ll help?” Tucker asked hopefully, and Church glared at him.

“Did you not just hear me say he’s someone you don’t want to mess with?”

 “Sure,” Tucker said, trying not to let his tone become defensive in the face of Church’s antagonism. “But he’s fucked over a lot of people, Church, and it’s gotta stop.”

“You mean Wash.”

“I mean fucking Epsilon,” Tucker replied, voice loud with the sudden spikes of anger jabbing at the insides of his skin. “A kid _died,_ Church, from a known medical condition the Director didn’t tell Wash about.”

“Wash still wouldn’t have been able to save him, Tucker.”

“Does it fucking matter? He didn’t tell Wash and he hasn’t told any of the lifeguards about any kid’s medical concerns, which is illegal and dangerous. He’s been stealing money, fucking around with the safety of the building to the point where two lifeguards have had to go the hospital, and he hired fucking goons to attack his own daughter just to see if Carolina can handle the RCMP.”  

He bit back any words about the effects everything was having on Church, knowing his roommate would just shut down any further if Tucker tried to bring up the cause of his insomnia. Bewilderment stole away some of the skepticism in Church’s gaze, and Tucker forced himself not to look away to check the time.

“What was that about Carolina?” Church asked, frowning more than glaring at that.

“He’s doing all this to test her. Make sure she’s ready for something like the RCMP so she doesn’t end up like Allison.”

There was a knock at the door and then the muffled sound of female voices. Tucker felt his heart sink as he didn’t think he had managed to convince Church of the necessity of going against the Director in such a short period of time. At that point, Tex’s involvement might just set Church off.

“It has to stop, Church,” Tucker said quietly.

He got off the couch to go answer the door as it seemed Connie was keeping Tex from just bursting through the door like she always did.

“It’s not just me who thinks that,” Tucker added, and grabbed the door handle. Church slowly climbed to his feet as the door swung open. “Connie and Tex have been looking into it a lot longer than me, and they think the same thing.”

Tex walked in with Connie trailing behind her as Tucker opened the door fully. They stopped beside Tucker, Tex more relaxed than Connie, though that might have just been from Connie’s unfamiliarity with Church. His roommate’s entire body stiffened the second the girls walked in.

Church’s gaze instantly went to Tex, and Tucker watched confusion melt into anger on his face as his friend realized what Tucker’s words meant about the past few months and all that Tex had kept from him. A scowl that could have scattered a group of arrogant teenagers after one glance slashed across his face, and Tucker barely kept himself from despairing out loud at the sight.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Church demanded, furious gaze locked on Tex.

“Church–” Tex started.

“Really, Tex? _Really_?”

“Do you really want to do this right now?”

“Oh don’t fucking try and act like I’m being some fucking overdramatic–”

“Maybe instead I’ll talk about you putting words in my mouth like you just fucking did.”

“That’s right, it’s always my fucking fault. Because heaven forbid the perfect Tex ever make a shitty ass mistake like the rest of us fuckers. Excuse me for forgetting you don’t play by the same rules as the rest of us scum.”

“Um,” Connie said, glancing at Tex. The only body language that hinted at Tex’s anger was her crossed arms.

“We can go if you want,” Tucker offered, though he didn’t move toward the door.

“You know what, no, Tucker,” Church snarled without looking at him. “I want you to stay so I can find out exactly how fucking long the two of you have been working behind my fucking back.”

“Dude, it’s not like Tex is obligated to tell you every single thing she does,” Tucker said, struggling to sound placating. “And neither am I.”

“I’m not even going to bother responding to that given how fucking mopey I know you’ve been because Wash refuses to let you talk to him.”

“Fuck you,” Tucker snapped through gritted teeth.

He curled his hands into fists and dug them into the sides of his legs to stop himself from lunging at Church. Church just spared him a single glance.

“Jesus Christ,” Connie muttered while Tucker struggled to get more words out past the rage and tiny grains of hurt seeping through him.

“Oh, don’t try and act like you’re some perfect saint in all of this,” Church said, whirling on Connie at her quiet comment. She held up her hands, but didn’t back away even as Church’s voice edged on shouting territory.

“Church, calm the fuck down and listen for one second,” Tex said, and Tucker wondered if she was regretting their entire approach.

“Uhhh.” All four of them turned at the sound to see North standing in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot. “Should we come back a bit later?”

“What the _fuck_ is he doing here?”

York materialized at North’s shoulder a second later, and Tucker half expected Church to stomp over and slam the door in their faces with a snarl. But Tex stepped in front of him, moving closer to the couch Church still stood beside while Connie went over to greet the other two lifeguards.

“They’re helping us, Church,” Tex told him, and the lifeguards hovered a step inside the apartment with Connie without taking their jackets off.

“Most of the lifeguards are,” Tucker added. “And the rest of the team, too.”

The Reds and Blues had told Tucker they would show up half an hour after the lifeguards precisely because they knew how liable Church was to freaking out upon being told everything.

“So what you’re trying to tell me is that you told every single fucking person about this before me,” Church said, gaze glancing at Tex before moving back and forth between everyone in the room.

He let loose bitter laughter, and the fury on his face couldn’t fully hide the hurt tearing him apart. “Of course, of fucking course. Why the fuck would anyone bother to tell me shit? Hey, I have a great idea, let’s all throw a big fucking party right next door to Church with all the people he can actually stand to be around for more than five minutes and just _not tell him anything_. Let’s just let him fucking rot at his computer while we all have a fucking laugh and–”

“He’s your uncle.”

Everyone went still at that, Church’s mouth snapping shut mid syllable as all their gazes locked onto Tex’s straight body. She uncrossed her arms, letting them dangle at her sides instead of tensing them for a fight. When she spoke again her voice was quiet as she stared straight at the frozen Church.

“He’s your uncle,” she repeated, “and maybe you would be fine with him getting thrown in jail, but he’s still a part of your life, and I’ve seen how you react to him and his messages. So I’m sorry, but I wanted to confirm there really was something wrong before I told you I was investigating him.”

Tucker watched his friend blink, Church’s hands curling and uncurling at his sides. He opened his mouth before smashing his teeth together seconds later.

“So you’re saying this is my fault,” he finally rasped.

Nobody else made a sound, terrified even a loud breath could shatter the small bubble that had sprung up around the two as they stared at each other. Some of the anger seeped away from Church’s hunched shoulders.

“No,” Tex said softly, and her bright gaze reminded Tucker of how she looked when she had insisted Church was no one but himself. “None of this is your fault.”  

Church didn’t say anything, just kept staring at her in silence as she refused to look away.

“Okay,” Tucker said, dragging the others’ attention to him. “How about we just go in the kitchen and review everything we know and shit?”

Everyone nodded and then followed Tucker as Tex and Church continued to stand as they were. They all crammed into the kitchen and less than thirty seconds later they heard the door to the hallway opening and closing.

“Will they be okay?” North asked, glancing toward the closed door.

Tucker and Connie claimed the seats at the table while the other two leaned against the cracked kitchen counters. Tucker sighed as he got out his phone to text Grif they were all clear to come over and not deal with Church’s immediate reaction.

“I fucking hope so,” Tucker said, and the two male lifeguards glanced at each other. “Church is great at being mad, but he’s horrible at holding a real grudge against Tex.”

“Did Chris take it badly, too?” York asked Connie, who tapped her fingers lightly on the surface of the stained table.

“There was definitely some shouting at the start,” she replied. “But it’s not his family involved.”

She offered Tucker a sympathetic look. “I think they’ll be okay, though.”

Tucker’s phone went off with a text from Grif confirming they were on their way, and they all turned their attention to the information they had. South showed up only a moment later, and the rest of the water polo team arrived fifteen minutes after her.

They moved into the living room when everyone arrived, the kitchen too small to fit the large group they’d become. Half of them sat on the floor, their voices filling every corner of the bright apartment while the night stretched by outside and Connie wrote all of their points in her laptop from where she sat on the couch. Simmons and Sheila both had their own laptops out as well, and everyone else crowded around one of the screens. Connie had her Skype chat open so Chris could message them from the friend’s house he studied at.

They all looked up when the door to the apartment opened again, falling quiet as Tex and Church finally returned together. Church still didn’t look very happy, but he just crossed his arms and gave his usual scowl when they all stared.

“Well?” he snapped. “Do you assholes actually have anything to show us, or have you just been sitting here with your thumbs up your asses?”

Tucker grinned at that, even when Church’s scowl just deepened at the sight.

“Church!” Caboose exclaimed, perking up from where he sat between Kai and Sheila. “Are you joining the secret club now too?”

“On second thought, maybe I’ll just leave now,” Church said, but Tex’s firm hand on his shoulder kept him in place. He sighed. “Yes, Caboose, finally got my fucking invitation to the secret club.”

“Tex, Sheila, and I made smoothies for everyone,” Kai added as Caboose launched into a long speech about how excited he was. “They’re in the fridge still–even Grif couldn’t get past us.”

“Spoilsports,” Grif muttered from where he sat on the couch beside Connie. He still maintained an abnormal distance from Simmons who sat on the floor by Tucker and the TV.

Church shot Tex a suspicious look as Kai went to get them, but she was back to wearing an impassive expression.

“What?” she asked when he stared, and he just rolled his eyes.

Church turned away to join Tucker on the floor, but Tucker caught the small smile that touched Tex’s lips. Church’s fist to his shoulder distracted him a second later, and the lifeguards laughed as Tucker cursed out his roommate.

“That’s for going behind my back with my girlfriend,” Church said as he lowered himself to the spot next to Tucker.

Caboose squeezed between them a moment later after helping Kai hand out drinks. Tucker almost snapped a comment about Tex, but since he was just grateful that the whole thing had worked out without a break-up, he bit his tongue.

Church turned his attention to everyone else as they all began to sip on their drinks, his drink left untouched for the moment by his knee.

“Carolina’s gonna do a lot worse than that to everyone when she finds out,” Church said, and everyone looked at him once more at that.

“Tex told you about that, too?” York asked, and Church snorted.

“Yeah, and you guys can deal with that conversation on your own.”

“But then she’ll just get you when you’re alone and not even Tex will be there to protect your wimpy ass,” South said.

She sat on the other side of Connie on the couch and offered Church a terrifying grin, North resting his arms on the backrest behind her.

“Why are you smiling like you’ll be there with a video camera?” Church asked, narrowing eyes at her.

“Turns out the lazy one is actually good for something,” South replied, and Sarge closed his eyes from where he leaned against the wall but didn’t disagree.

“Fucking amazing,” Simmons muttered.

Nobody but Tucker seemed to hear him, though, and Tucker just turned his attention to the reason they had all met.

Once everyone made themselves comfortable, they began to explain to Church what evidence they currently had and what evidence they still needed to get. With Church’s presence and the new access to the Director through him, they all became much more optimistic than they had been during their discussions at practices and over the Facebook thread.

With Church on their side, they simply needed him to invite one of them over while the Director was out and they could investigate together without the time limit Tex possessed while at the house over the Christmas break.

“You’re still asking me to do shit like hacking a bank account and emails,” Church pointed out. “That’s not something I’ve just taken an elective on.”

“But you know how to do it, don’t you?” Kai said.

“Email isn’t not too hard, or at least, not the average person’s email. Banking on the other hand.”

“I believe in you guys,” Donut said, beaming at both Church and Simmons.

“You are both very smart.” Caboose said, bobbing his head up and down.

“With computers at least,” Grif added, and Simmons stabbed the space key but didn’t look up at Grif.

“You should bug his office at home,” South said, one of the few with a drink still left.

“Are we fucking movie spies now or something?” Church demanded, but the others wore varying degrees of thoughtful expressions.

“I call Agent Pluto as my code name,” Caboose said, and stuck his tongue out at Tucker who barely kept himself from just throwing his empty cup at him.

“One, that is a lame agent name, and two, we’re not actually being spies.”

“Aw, don’t worry, Tucker, we’ll save some cool missions for you too. Like, you can get Lopez’s cat down from the tree!”

“ _Cuando alguna vez he mencionado un animal? Alguna vez? Es amante de Tucker, que cuenta con todos los animals._ ” (“ _When have I ever mentioned an animal? Ever? It’s Tucker’s lover who has all the animals._ ”)

“I am going to bring back my plan to murder both of you if you don’t shut the fuck up right now,” Church snapped at them.

They got back to business and devised a game plan a moment later, though. Simmons had set up a spreadsheet on his laptop of all the incidents and what evidence they needed to obtain to prove the Director’s connection to those incidents, as well as the evidence they currently had. The Reds and Blues teased him for it, but Connie had something similar on her laptop and the lifeguards thought it was a good idea.

They possessed some proof for the gas leak, fire, and financial situation. With both the gas and fire, though, they would need more than a police report that didn’t have evidence for the identity of the culprit. For the gas leak, Church suggested he and Simmons go through the Director’s Internet history, as the Director would have needed to figure out a way to cause a controlled leak and most people’s first source of information was Google.

“Wouldn’t he have been smart enough to clear his history?” North asked with a frown, and Church snorted.

“Please, your history is never actually clear.”

They would need to get a hold of the Director’s banking statements and accounts if they wanted to prove he was siphoning money away from the pool, a task which fell on Church and Simmons’ shoulders.

By midnight they had split up the tasks and workload between all of them. First order of business was Church gaining access to his uncle’s email account and sharing that information with everyone. Once more, they asked about deleted emails, and Church simply told them to let the techies handle recovering those.

Once they had access to the emails, Connie, Tex, Sarge, Lopez, Donut, Tucker, and York would be in charge of going through all of them to see if they could find anything useful. Potentially something that linked the Director and Counsellor to organizing the fire, gas leak, or hiring the drunks who attacked Carolina.

Grif, Sheila, Kai and Donut would be in charge of going through the visual and audio recordings from the devices they finally convinced Church to let them set up in the Director’s office. Tex had already obtained security footage from the pool and found nothing suspicious, but Church pointed the Director would have been smart enough to edit the footage to cover his tracks. 

South and North agreed to go through police records and news stories to see if they could find any connections to the people who attacked Carolina.

“I’ll know those fuckers when I see them again,” South declared, leaning back against the couch. “I might not have gotten the best look at them, but I spotted some pretty memorable piercings.”

She didn’t elaborate, and nobody asked when she said there were also places she could ask around for information on them and the Counsellor.

Tex, Chris, and his friends would try to find out more about the Counsellor while Church and Simmons would work on getting access to the bank account.

They all wanted there to be more guaranteed ways to find the evidence they needed, but Connie pointed out that it was more than she and Tex had been able to do on their own. Once everyone was clear on their job, York once more asked when they should bring Carolina into the fold.

“Her exam is tomorrow,” York said and then glanced at his phone. “Well I guess today technically.”

“I don’t think that’s really something you want to hear right after an exam,” Church replied. He was leaning against Tex now in his exhaustion, and most of the others looked ready to dive onto the nearest bed. “Also, it’s probably gonna require a long discussion after lots of shouting.”

“The weekend then,” Tucker suggested, resisting the urge to imitate Caboose who had simply curled on the floor like a cat between Church and Tucker. He stared at them all sleepily, and York and North looked jealous from where they slouched against the sides of the couch.

“What about Junior?”

“I’ll ask Doc to babysit for a bit.”

They agreed on Saturday and decided on the Dakota twins’ house for the meeting place. Then, with determination pounding through their veins and exhaustion burning their eyes, they all returned to their own homes for the night.

***

**Thursday, February 22 nd, 75 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

Every nerve ending in Tucker’s body screamed for the nothingness of sleep, and his feet demanded to be given a respite from supporting his body against gravity. When he rubbed his eyes, it surprised him that no sand came away on his fingers given how dry and scratchy they felt. He wanted to shove them even further back into his skull if it would get them to stop feeling irritated, and he wanted to drink an entire pool of caffeine.

He shouldn’t even be at the pool on only two hours of sleep, but he had promised Church to attend that practice since his teammate could actually come that day. Tucker wanted to talk more with the others about their strategies, all of information and the emails he’d been going through until five am the night before straining against the confines of his computer screen.

So instead of staying home to sleep, or figure out how to get Wash to start talking to them more as resentment pooled in his gut, or get some of his overdue homework done, Tucker dragged himself onto the pool deck five minutes after practice was due to begin. Church cursed him out when he saw him, and Tucker just gave him a half-hearted middle finger as he slipped into the water.

The others were already running some drills, Grif complaining even as he did them. Tucker swam over to where the other Blues were practicing sprints, and ignored Caboose’s loud greeting. Church gave his shoulder a shove with a grin and Tucker tried to ignore how weak his muscles felt in response.

When Church told him to start with his warm-up laps, Tucker just nodded and moved closer to the side with the guardroom so he would be out of the others’ way. He glanced over his shoulder briefly to where Carolina roamed the deck as she watched the lane swimmers. Their gazes met and Tucker thought he saw her tilt her head slightly in his direction before her attention moved elsewhere.

Tucker began the laborious process of doing front crawl from one end of the tank to the other. By the time he moved on to breast stroke, his lungs were burning from the chlorinated water he kept gagging on and his flutter kick was as weak as a baby’s. He began to head toward the bulkhead separating the middle tank from the diving well, pulling through the water slowly.

“Fuck,” he breathed, and let his eyes fall shut for a brief moment.

When Tucker opened them again, the darkness refused to leave the edges of his vision and he found himself completely submerged. He opened his mouth to inhale in surprise, and water rushed down his throat.

Panic forced his legs and arms into a thrashing motion, but the black spots in his vision were growing wider and the water eager to spread to every part of him.

Tucker felt himself slipping away, and not even his shrieking lungs could stop his eyes from slipping shut.

***

**Thursday, February 22 nd, 75 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

“Carolina!”

Carolina whirled around at the sound of Church frantically screaming her name, knees already bending to push herself into a run. When she saw him waving his arms wildly at her and everyone in the diving well pointing at a spot in the water, she started sprinting.

It took her less than ten seconds to reach the diving well and spot the source of their fear. Tucker’s body drifted vertically beneath the surface, arms and legs pushed apart and unnaturally still except for the water’s gentle nudging. In another three seconds, Carolina had gotten on to the bulkhead and blown her whistle loud enough to make North and York wince at its volume.

Then she dived straight into the water.

Coming up from behind Tucker, she pressed her right arm against his back and pulled his arms together. Her right hand wrapped around his left bicep to keep both of his arms trapped between their two bodies while she used her other hand to force his head down so he wouldn’t inhale more water as she brought him to the surface. Once at the surface, she jerked his head back, hand tangled in his dreads to keep his airway from slipping back beneath the water.

She glanced up to see both North and York standing on the side of the pool deck.

“York!” she called to him, and both of them nodded.

North blew his whistle before shouting at everyone to get out of the pool. For once, the Reds and Blues didn’t need to be told twice, scrambling to the sides and onto the deck. North gestured at them to move back as Carolina reached the side of the pool, York crouching down as he waited.

Carolina kept Tucker’s slack face out of the water as she lifted his arms onto the side of the pool deck. Wordlessly, she and York worked to turn him around so he faced away from York. York slipped his arms underneath Tucker’s armpits with a grunt, hands wrapping around Tucker’s wrists and forcing his elbows to press tightly against the sides of his body.

“You good?” she asked, leg bent underneath Tucker’s to support his unresponsive body. York nodded. “On my third tap.”

Carolina slipped beneath the water, left arm moving beneath Tucker’s legs. Her right hand slapped the side of the pool wall three times, and on the third one, both of them hoisted Tucker’s body out of the water. York dragged him far away from the water and toward the lifeguard room as Carolina pulled herself out of the pool.

“Church and Sarge on crowd control,” North told them as he came back over. He glanced down to where York had his ear close to Tucker’s mouth, eyes locked on Tucker’s still chest.

“He’s not breathing,” York told her. The little water she had swallowed seemed to expand and harden into ice in her chest.

“I got EMS,” North said, sprinting into the guardroom where they had a phone.

“You take breaths, I’ll do compressions,” Carolina told York.

He nodded, hands already reaching out for the first aid kit North had grabbed after clearing the pool. In the sudden silence, Carolina easily heard the small click as York undid the container holding the pocket mask. She grabbed a pair of gloves and handed one pair to York, who slipped them on before positioning the mask on Tucker’s face. Two breaths and then Carolina began her compressions, the beat of “Stayin’ Alive” playing in her head keeping her on track as she pushed up and down on Tucker’s chest.

“Thirty,” she said, and York leaned down to give Tucker another two breaths. North nodded at them from inside the guardroom where he still spoke with the EMS operator.

Carolina began another set of compressions.

“Is Tucker dying?” With only the sound of the fans and quiet breathing to fill the room, Caboose’s whisper seemed as loud as a scream.

“He’s not dying,” she snapped, losing the calm that pumped through her veins for merely a second before she returned to the steady count of compressions in her head.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see York frowning at her and Kaikaina whispering something to Caboose, but Carolina didn’t regret what she’d said. They had already lost Epsilon, and she would die herself before she let their pool lose anyone else.

Especially another person Wash cared about.

“Thirty,” she told York again.

Before he could lean down to give more breaths, Tucker’s body suddenly shook from head to toe. Water spewed from his lips, and York didn’t need any urging from Carolina to grab Tucker’s arms and roll him on to his side with his mouth away from York. The pocket mask clattered to the deck as Tucker’s body began to expunge whatever water it could as well as chunks of his sparse breakfast.

They waited for him to stop gagging and spitting liquid everywhere, York grimacing a little in sympathy as he kept Tucker’s head on Tucker’s outstretched arm.When Tucker finally stopped, York used his gloved hands to clear any residual vomit from Tucker’s gasping mouth.

“Whaaa,” he slurred, and Carolina watched his eyes flutter but never fully open.  

York leaned over him, smiling a little at the breath that now rattled in Tucker’s chest and hit York’s cheek.

“Should we leave him like this?” York asked as North rejoined them on the deck.

“Tucker?” Carolina asked. “Tucker, can you hear me?”

An incoherent stream of syllables and coughing poured from his mouth.

“Call back EMS and let them know he’s breathing but not fully conscious,” Carolina told North. “But make sure you let Vic at the front desk know to expect EMS before you do that.”

“Got it, boss,” North said, and returned to the guardroom. Carolina reached for Tucker’s free wrist, finding the weak pulse within seconds.

“York, start filling out the paperwork.”

He nodded, grabbing the sheets and pen North had brought out with the first aid kit. Carolina glanced at the clock before telling York the number of beats she’d felt and the time. They checked for any signs of a spinal injury and secondary injuries before moving on to regular recordings of Tucker’s vitals.

North came back out and went over to Church to ask him what had happened. By the time the paramedics arrived, Tucker had started to respond to Carolina’s simple questions about his name and age, but the answers were slurred and his gaze still more unfocused than Carolina felt comfortable with.

“One of you can come with him,” the paramedics told the Reds and Blues once Carolina had identified them as Tucker’s friends and teammates. “We’ll take him to the university hospital and if you have a vehicle, the rest of you can follow in that.”

“I’ll go,” Church said, voice subdued as he stepped closer to where the paramedics loaded Tucker onto a stretcher. “Is he going to need to stay there long?”

“He should be okay to leave by the afternoon as long as there’s no other complications.”

Church nodded and the others agreed to still go to their classes but have Church text them about Tucker’s condition. Carolina watched Church follow the paramedics out after they asked a few more questions of her. York continued to scribble on their paperwork and North moved to tell the lane swimmers they could continue swimming if they wanted.

“Carolina?”

York’s gentle voice made her realize she’d been standing in the middle of the pool deck, still staring at the exit the paramedics had used. She turned to meet his concerned gaze, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder briefly. He covered her hand with his own.

“Finish the paperwork,” she told him. She released him and began to head to the guardroom. “I have a call to make.”

***

**Thursday, February 22 nd, 75 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

Tucker kept one hand resting on his stomach as he walked out of the hospital with Church. For once, the man kept any comments about Tucker’s general idiocy to himself, instead just telling him Caboose wouldn’t stop texting him. That combined with the paleness of his face told Tucker everything he needed to know about his roommate’s concern for him.

Under normal circumstances, Tucker might have found the silence punctuated by low grumblings unnerving or annoying. But with the way his stomach continued to feel as if someone had jabbed a dozen knifes into it, Tucker appreciated both the quiet and the concern. If that concern then transferred into meals he didn’t have to make himself, his gratitude would be eternal.

“Oh, and I called your work while you were getting your lungs pumped,” Church added as they stepped into the sunlight. “Doc said he’d cover your shift for you.”

“Fuck, I hadn’t even thought about work,” he told Church. “Thanks.”

The shadow of a smirk stretched across Church’s face, and Tucker felt his shoulders ease a little at the familiar sight. Confusion replaced the smirk a second later, and Tucker frowned as Church came to a halt on the sidewalk outside the hospital entrance. Tucker glanced in the direction of his gaze and he stumbled to a stop just like Church.

“Wash?”

He stood a few feet away from them on the sidewalk, gaze locked onto Tucker’s form. Both Wash’s disheveled hair and rumpled sweatshirt made it seem like he had just rolled out of bed, dark spots staining the hem of his shirt. His hands tapped against his thigh in a steady rhythm of anxiety, and there were dark bags under his eyes that made Tucker feel tired just looking at them.

But he stood right in front of Tucker rather than locked away in some dark room refusing to answer Tucker’s calls or come to the door.

“What are you doing here?” Tucker asked, when he managed to find the breath to say more than just Wash’s name. A thousand different sentiments twisted inside Tucker’s chest and fought for dominance over his choice of words.

He glanced toward Church, but the man just shrugged at Tucker with a frown on his face.

“What were you thinking?” Wash demanded instead of answering Tucker’s question, and he blinked.

“What?”

“You went into a pool on two hours of sleep and limited food, and instead of letting anyone know how exhausted you were or taking a step back and considering your limits, you fucking tried to do physical skills. What. Were. You. Thinking!”

“How the fuck do you even know that?”

“Carolina called me,” Wash said. “She said Church told her you hadn’t gotten any sleep and what happened.”

Tucker wanted to turn around and give Church a glare, but he found himself captivated by the way rage twisted Wash’s face and something unnameable gleamed in his green eyes. Wash took a step forward, hands clenching into fists as Tucker remained incapable of movement.

“Why the fuck would she do that?” Tucker asked.

He couldn’t label what lay beneath Wash’s anger, but he was drowning in it nonetheless.

“Because you nearly died?”

“I wasn’t dy–”

“She had to perform CPR on you! Because you were stupid enough to go into the pool–”

“Okay you know what,” Tucker cut him off, resentment searing his throat. “I’m pretty sure you’re not my fucking dad, so where the fuck do you get off _lecturing_ me about how tired I may or may not–”

“Obviously you were that tired if you fucking passed out in the middle of practice!”

“Fine maybe, I was tired, but aren’t you the one who was always telling me to suck it up and try harder?”

“I know you liked to complain that you were dying,” Wash snapped. “But I _never_ told you to forgo your physical health for practice. I might have said if your muscles were aching that was a good sign, but I never made you work until you passed out.”

Tucker wanted to argue back, but his own memories were on Wash’s side. For Tucker remembered all the times Caboose told him Wash checked to make sure the player wasn’t injured. He remembered Wash ripping Felix apart verbally for hurting Tucker. He remembered the questions about how much sleep Tucker was getting with work, school, and Junior to keep him busy.

He remembered Wash driving them to the clinic was Junior was sick, and his concerned questions before his assurances that Tucker was in fact a good dad. He remembered the way Wash always let him complain to him, the way he always told Tucker to eat healthier, and the way he seemed concerned about Tucker’s well-being when Tucker told him he would be around Junior’s grandparents over Christmas break.

Tucker remembered waking up after that first staff party in pajama pants and Wash’s grey sweater, safely buried beneath blankets on a mattress thanks to Wash’s actions.  

And he remembered Wash telling Tucker at practice that he should always know his limits. Not the ones he insisted Wash kept pushing him beyond, but the ones that when crossed, caused the pain of tearing tissue and the fall of unconsciousness.

“So what, you heard I was being the idiot you always say I am and decided you needed to come out here and lecture me before you could sleep well at night?” Tucker shot back.

His spinal cord started working again and he took a step forward, jutting his chin out in defiance.  

Words bubbled on his tongue and he knew they weren’t fair. He knew that what happened with Epsilon broke a bit of Wash, as it would have anyone else. He knew he couldn’t blame Wash for needing space, away from everyone who couldn’t understand and who tried to fill that gap with empty words and desperate gestures of comfort.

He knew the hurt searing through him was childish and selfish, but Wash’s absence had made him ache in a way nothing could soothe except for Junior’s presence. Even then, sometimes Junior would tell him he looked sad or have to repeat his question to catch Tucker’s attention.

So even though knew he _shouldn’t_ be resentful of Wash’s silences, his lack of messages, and disconnect from Tucker’s life, he still _was_.

“Why the fuck do you care, anyways?” he demanded, unable to look away from the words’ target.

Wash went perfectly still and for a moment, Tucker wondered if he was about to get punched. In the sudden silence, only the distant sound of ambulance sirens and the city’s traffic jams pressed against Tucker’s ears.

Then Wash was moving, and Tucker froze as Wash’s arms wrapped around his chest. His body pressed against Tucker’s and his fingers scrambled at the back of Tucker’s neck before finding the collar of Tucker’s shirt to clutch. His body shook as if they stood in the middle of a snowstorm with no protection, and he clung to Tucker as tightly as Junior did after a nightmare.

Tucker heard Wash inhale loudly, and it sounded horribly similar to a sob catching in his throat. Tucker felt his anger evaporate, barbed wire tangling in his chest in its absence so it was as impossible to breathe as it had been trapped underwater.  

He returned the embrace, pulling their bodies closer and whispering an apology to Wash.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Wash,” Tucker whispered.

He pressed his hands harder against Wash’s back when the lifeguard’s grip tightened on Tucker’s collar. When Wash rested his forehead on Tucker’s shoulder, Tucker had to resist the urge to cup the back of Wash’s head, unsure if touches beyond hugging would be welcome.

“I’m okay, Wash,” Tucker said, letting endless reassurances spill from his lips. “I’m okay. No water left in my lungs, no permanent side effects–everything’s gonna be okay.”

Wash’s breaths continued to stutter out of him and Tucker closed his eyes against the blue sky spread above them. The choking protectiveness he felt for Wash and the words they triggered were easier to deal with in the darkness behind Tucker’s closed eyes. He didn’t have to face the outline they formed there, and the shadows the words cast couldn’t form with no light.

“I’m breathing just fine, Wash, and so are you.”

Wash still didn’t say anything, just kept hanging on instead. Tucker got the feeling ‘hanging on’ was all Wash had been doing for the past three months, and while the desperation that tightened his grip might have started to hurt, Tucker would drown again before he refused to be the support Wash needed.

Tucker kept talking and Wash kept clinging until eventually Wash no longer sounded like he would start crying with each exhale. When Wash finally loosened his grip, his whole body shuddered before he lifted his head.

Wash let his hands fall away from Tucker as Wash took a half step back, and Tucker slowly pulled his hands away from Wash. It only took a few seconds for Tucker to miss the contact, and he resolved to outright grab Wash if he tried to run away from everyone once more.

“I–” Wash began. The tips of his ears were already turning red and he didn’t meet Tucker’s gaze. “Sorry, that wasn’t–”

“Don’t you dare fucking apologize for being upset, Wash,” Tucker snapped, and he took a deep breath when Wash winced. “Shit, sorry, I don’t want to start shouting again. What I said wasn’t cool and I get it. I mean, I don’t have the same personal experience but I understand you needed your space, I just–”

Tucker hesitated and Wash still didn’t look at him. He didn’t fidget though, holding his hunched body in a way that indicated total attention for Tucker’s words.

“I guess I just missed you,” Tucker finished quietly, and Wash finally looked up at that.

Tucker once again noted the bruised skin beneath Wash’s eyes, especially noticeable with the worsened paleness of Wash’s skin. His blond hair needed a cut and a shower, and his body slumped like he no longer knew how to stand tall against life.

“I missed you too,” Wash finally said, and Tucker felt his chest go tight. “But I couldn’t–I just–”

“It’s okay, Wash,” Tucker said when Wash didn’t continue.

He could still feel the anger over all the silence shifting uneasily beneath his skin, but Wash’s obvious distress melted the sentiment into insubstantial vapours. The despair making Wash’s face crumble as he struggled to find the words he needed shoved those vapours far from Tucker’s conscious thoughts.

“I’m a mess, Tucker,” Wash said, and his voice sounded like he really had just been crying.

The rawness clawed at Tucker’s ears and throat, and he wondered if that was the first time Wash had admitted it out loud. If he had lied to every professor and any person he happened to see on campus, knowing they wouldn’t press the issue because they were too busy with their own lives to examine the validity of such a statement. If that’s why Wash had been avoiding even Connie when he could, because she would see right through it, forcing him to say those words and therefore make him incapable of pretending otherwise.

“I didn’t think anyone would want to see that,” Wash continued, his unspoken _I didn’t_ want _anyone to see it_ hanging in the small space between them.

“Yeah, well, sometimes it’s easier if two people are cleaning up a mess instead of just one guy on his own, right?”

Wash stared at him for a long time and Tucker refused to look away for even a second. Just when Tucker thought he should say something else, Wash opened his mouth.

“I guess that’s true.”

He took a step back as if preparing to flee, and Tucker reached out to grab his wrist.

“Dude, do you really want to be alone right now?” Tucker asked, and Wash didn’t try to pull his hand away.

“I–” Wash glanced behind him and then looked back at Tucker with a hesitant expression.

Fear choked Tucker, but he didn’t allow a sound to escape his lips. His hand instinctively tightened around Wash’s wrist and Wash remained where he stood. “No, not really.”

“Come over then,” Tucker said, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.

If he let Wash go home now by himself, Tucker didn’t think he’d come out again until one of them nearly died once more, and then all that resentment and loneliness might morph into a bitter hatred Tucker couldn’t bear to imagine. “I’m not going into work cuz of what happened and Church just bought groceries yesterday. I can make a kickass meal and we can watch cartoons and shitty movies and I’ll even let you lecture me on unhealthy food choices.”

Wash didn’t smile, but some of the lines on his tired face smoothed out.

“I’d like that,” he said, and Tucker fought back the urge to kiss him.

It was even stronger with the weeks of distance and silence now on their way to resolution, but Tucker knew the action would only hurt Wash. He really would hide away forever then, and Tucker refused to let Wash struggle any more than he already was even if he could still feel grains of hurt pricking at his chest.

“Did you drive here?” Tucker asked, slowly releasing Wash’s hand now that he had a verbal agreement. Wash nodded, but he seemed to sag even more once lacking physical contact with Tucker. “Do you want me to drive back? You look exhausted so–”

“ _I’ll_ drive us back,” Church said, finally making his presence known again. He stepped toward the two, shoving his phone into his jean pockets and glaring at them. “Since one of you was just fucking unconscious, and one of you looks like you’re about to _be_ unconscious.”

Tucker and Wash glanced at each other before Wash hesitantly held out the keys to Church. They followed Wash through the parking lot to his car he’d haphazardly parked, vehicle crossing over the yellow painted lines separating two spots. Neither Church nor Tucker commented on the error, and when Tucker climbed into the backseat after hesitating briefly in the cold air, Wash slid into the seat next to him.

Heat blasted from the car vents, but Church and Tucker didn’t try to change it on the quiet ride back to their apartment. Tucker kept glancing at Wash who swayed close to Tucker but never outright touched him. Tucker could feel Wash’s gaze on him every time he looked away, and the lifeguard seemed to sink into the heat and seats of the car. Tucker half expected him to have fallen asleep by the time they reached the apartment, but he stumbled out as soon as Tucker got out and followed them up the icy sidewalk to the entrance.

The moment they got inside, Church disappeared into his room after telling Tucker to get him if he started feeling sick. The door to his bedroom swung shut behind him, leaving Tucker and Wash standing silently in the middle of the main room.

“So, what would you like to do?” Tucker asked when Wash continued to stand there looking like he felt as out of place as he had when he attended the first pasta day. “Watch a movie, play a game, chill…talk?”

“Movie sounds fine,” Wash said after a few seconds. His voice sounded quieter than Tucker had ever heard it, but he preferred anything to the cold tone Wash spoke in after slamming the door in his face.

Tucker headed over to the TV and turned on the PS3 so they could go through Netflix. Once they picked a movie and both sat on the couch, Tucker asked if he wanted any food.

“Early lunch or whatever,” Tucker said, noting how Wash looked like he had lost a couple pounds since Tucker last saw him. Wash nodded, frowning slightly when Tucker got off the couch.

“Did you eat a big breakfast?” Tucker called over his shoulder in response to Wash’s frown as he headed into the kitchen. The movie began to play, and Tucker paused in the doorway when Wash started to answer.

“No, I didn’t have breakfast. I–I don’t actually remember when I ate last. Maybe yesterday morning.”

Wash didn’t look at him as he said it, body going stiff with the admission and Tucker felt a sliver of doubt over dealing with this new, colder Wash.

“Right, so we’re gonna have an awesome feast then,” Tucker declared.

He thought he saw Wash relax slightly even though he didn’t verbally answer, and Tucker forced the doubt away as he stepped into the kitchen fully. Leaning against the counter briefly, he scowled and reminded himself he had been the one desperate to get Wash back. He knew that the death would affect Wash and wanted to do what he could to support him. Hell, he had told his own son that they couldn’t expect Wash to be the exact same as before and that they needed to be understanding of Wash’s grief.

That meant not being a dick about how Wash might be more closed off than he had been before Epsilon died.

_“I missed you too.”_

Those words had been dripping with sincerity, and Tucker forced himself to focus on that memory as he moved through the kitchen and prepared a meal. The noise of the movie drifted into the kitchen, and Tucker ignored the way his own stomach cramped at the sight of food so soon after throwing up.

He settled on making the large BLTs he remembered Wash liking, and also pulled out all the vegetables and fruit he could find. For once, he agreed with Wash on the value of eating healthy food. He cut up celery, apples, and strawberries and piled them on a separate plate. Then Tucker tore open a bag of chips and poured some onto each of their plates. Giving the meal a once over, Tucker let a satisfied smile touch his lips briefly before carrying the food out to Wash.

Wash blinked a lot in silence when Tucker put one of the sandwich plates in his lap and then put the fruit one on the coffee table. He got them drinks and then returned to sit down with his own sandwich.

“What?” Tucker asked when Wash didn’t move to touch his sandwich and kept staring at Tucker instead. “I’m starving.”

He took a massive bite of his sandwich even though his stomach still felt unsettled. The action and Tucker’s gaze on the movie caused Wash to relax, and Tucker watched him take a bite of the sandwich out of the corner of his eye.

Both of them were quieter than they had ever been before while watching a movie, but Tucker didn’t mind. Wash ate most of his food, and he even smiled at a couple of the comments Tucker made about a random background characters. Once the movie ended, neither felt like moving from the couch and Wash didn’t protest watching more Netflix.

He didn’t talk nearly as much as he used to, sometimes taking a few seconds to respond to Tucker’s question or asking Tucker to repeat his words. But when Tucker didn’t remark on it, simply repeated his words in a relaxed tone, Wash seemed to grow more comfortable. The occasional teasing remark Tucker gave him only seemed to help that comfort grow, as if reassured by Tucker’s ability to banter with him just as he had before Epsilon’s death.

They maintained a safe distance of a couple of inches while sitting on the couch, but even with that space, it didn’t did take Tucker long to notice when Wash started shivering despite his thick looking sweater.

“Dude, are you cold?” Tucker asked, turning his gaze away from the movie.

The morning had faded into mid-afternoon, Church still staying sequestered in his room. Wash hunched a little bit when Tucker stared, and offered half a shrug.

“I get cold easily now,” Wash muttered, and neither of them needed him to vocalize when exactly that had started.

“You wanna go into my bedroom?” Tucker asked after a moment in which Wash refused to look at him. “I got that massive comforter and we can just watch shit on my laptop.”

“Alright,” Wash said after a few seconds.

They relocated to Tucker’s bed, and Tucker looked through his desk while Wash climbed onto the bed and wrapped himself in blankets. A few seconds later Tucker had found his prize, and he tossed the pack of cards on his bed before sitting. He leaned back against the wall as he tried not to laugh at the way Wash looked like a giant marshmallow with the puffy, white comforter wrapped around him.

“Cards?” Wash asked as he stared at the battered pack.

“If that’s cool. My eyes are kinda drying out from the screen–I have no fucking clue how Church does it all day.”

That caused Wash’s lips to twitch upward and Tucker gave him a grin as he shuffled the cards.

They spent the rest of the afternoon playing cards. Wash’s poker face had grown better in their separation but not impossible to read, a fact which caused relief to pound through Tucker. Wash stayed huddled in the comforter, but the longer they played, the more involved Wash became. By the time Tucker called for a dinner break, Wash had begun to tease him back slightly, though his retorts still lacked all of the energy Tucker was used to.

Wash followed Tucker out into the kitchen with the comforter still wrapped around his shoulders when Tucker assured him doing so was fine if he was still cold. Church entered the kitchen when the grilled cheeses were nearly ready, sparing only a glance for the sandwiches and the cut tomato on the counter.

“I’m gonna head over to Tex’s for the night,” Church told Tucker where he stood at the stove, Wash hovering at his shoulder. “You guys good?”

“Yeah yeah,” Tucker said, even though he could see real concern in Church’s gaze when he glanced at Wash and then back to him. “I’ll text you if Wash sets the apartment on fire.”

“I think his concern might have been your near drowning,” Wash said, the tightness from outside the hospital back in his voice. Church and Tucker looked at each other.

“Right well, they pumped the shit out of my lungs so no water left in me,” Tucker said, careful to keep his tone light as he flipped one of the sandwiches. “Except the actual healthy stuff.”

Church rolled his eyes and left the apartment a moment later. Wash stayed quiet for the most part while Tucker finished making dinner, and they retreated once more to Tucker’s bedroom after finishing their food at the kitchen table. Tucker got out his laptop, shoving the cards back in their pack as Wash chose another movie. Tucker turned off the lights and then they settled against the headboardtogether, Wash no longer wrapping himself in the comforter but pulling the blankets up to both of their waists.

With the heat from the laptop, Wash’s body beside his, and the blankets piled on their legs, Tucker soon felt all of the day’s events catch up to him and exhaustion pull at his eyelids. Only an hour into the movie, Tucker glanced over and found Wash’s eyes closed. His head dipped so his chin rested on his chest, slack arms crossed over his chest slightly.

Tucker left him be for the moment, turning his attention back to the movie and turning down the volume slightly so if Wash really was asleep, he wouldn’t wake up. Despite his best intentions to keep still and quiet, an explosion from the movie startled Wash awake a few minutes later. His head jerked up and he blinked first at the movie and then Tucker.

“Fuck,” Wash swore when he realized what had happened. “Sorry that–I should go home.”

“Dude, it’s fine,” Tucker assured him, hating the way Wash went stiff again as if he’d somehow failed simply by being human. “We’re both exhausted, and it’s not a big deal if you just wanna crash here. I got spare PJs and I don’t mind sharing my bed.”

Tucker kept his gaze on Wash who glanced at the door and then back at Tucker with a hesitant expression.

“I’ll think about it,” Wash said slowly, and Tucker bit back any further words. Instead he just nodded with a neutral expression before they both turned their attention back to the movie.

Only ten minutes later Wash began drifting off again, and the time he remained asleep before jolting awake again lengthened. After he remained asleep for nearly half an hour and Tucker himself wanted to simply crash, Tucker closed Netflix. He took it as a good sign that Wash didn’t immediately try to speak or dash out of the bed. Instead the lifeguard slumped and stared blearily at a patch on Tucker’s wall.  

“Dude, do you really wanna go through all the effort of driving home right now?” Tucker asked, trying to keep any pleading tones from his voice. Wash didn’t verbally answer for a moment, just scrubbed at his face with his hands. “Just let yourself crash, Wash. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Wash sighed and lowered his hands.

“If you’re fine with it,” he finally said, and Tucker couldn’t resist rolling his eyes at that.

“I share my bed with Junior every weekend. I no longer have any qualms about splitting it.”

“Junior’s a kid,” Wash pointed out as Tucker heaved himself off the bed to go turn on the lights and find PJs for the both of them.

“Yeah, yeah. But seriously, it’s _fine_.”

He tossed Wash a baggy t-shirt and some flannel PJ pants Junior had bought Tucker for Christmas. When Wash didn’t grab at them immediately, Tucker froze where he already began to lift off his shirt. “I can go change in the bathroom if you want?”

Wash blinked slowly at the clothes as if coming back to consciousness, and then he looked up sharply at Tucker as the words finally seemed to sink in.

“It’s fine,” he said, snatching at the clothes as blood rushed to his face.

Tucker stayed quiet, turning around to undress. He heard the bed creak when Wash shifted and changed, but Tucker kept his gaze firmly on the blank wall in front of him. Without speaking, they both changed quickly and then Tucker turned off the lights before getting back into bed. Wash moved so Tucker could return to the spot closest to the wall, and Tucker wanted to sigh when the lifeguard spent a good five minutes trying to find a position that would keep a few solid inches of space between them.

“I can go sleep on the couch if you want,” Tucker said.

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed, Tucker,” Wash snapped, and finally stopped moving. He lay on his back, and Tucker rolled onto his side to face Wash even though he couldn’t make out much in the darkness.

“Just a suggestion if you were feeling uncomfortable.”

“No that’s not–” Wash sighed, but Tucker could hear notes of embarrassment when he spoke again. “I just get really close to people in my sleep sometimes.”

“Personal space is not a thing I care about in bed.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Wash muttered as Tucker barely bit back his catchphrase.

They both fell quiet after that, and Wash only moved again to roll onto his side. Tucker listened to Wash’s breathing steady out beside him and then fell asleep within minutes.

Tucker didn’t know what woke him specifically in the middle of the night, whether Wash made a noise or hit his body accidentally. But something dragged him back to a confused consciousness and he blinked in the darkness of his room while the bed shifted beneath him. The movement pushed Tucker out of his sleepy apathy and injected alertness in its place as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. Green light came from the alarm clock sitting on his bedside table and Tucker finally realized Wash was not only awake, but attempting to scramble off the bed.

That had Tucker shooting onto his knees as the lifeguard got one leg over the bed while the other tangled in the blankets.

“Wash?” Tucker asked, and Wash thrashed in the sheet.

Without thinking, Tucker reached out and grabbed Wash’s wrist just as he did outside of the hospital to keep Wash from bolting. Wash went still and slowly twisted his body toward Tucker.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Wash said before Tucker could say anything else. “Just some dumb dreams–I should–you don’t want–my keys are in my bag so I’ll just–”

“Wash, it’s four in the fucking morning,” Tucker interrupted. His grip on Wash’s wrist tightened and Tucker couldn’t tell if Wash’s shivering came from the cold or his nightmares. “And I’m not gonna kick you out just cuz you’re a restless sleeper.”

Wash didn’t say anything, but he didn’t lie back down either and desperation softened Tucker’s next words with the vulnerability his fear triggered.

“Wash. Please stay.”

If Wash left then, Tucker feared things would simply return as they were. He held his breath as Wash stayed quiet before his shoulders finally slouched and he turned his body to face Tucker fully.

“Alright,” he said, and Tucker exhaled.

Wash slowly crawled back into his earlier position and Tucker laid down as well. He kept holding Wash’s wrist until Wash settled again, and then finally let go.

“Sorry,” Wash whispered just as Tucker began to drift off again. Tucker forced his eyes open even though he could see next to nothing in the dark.

“Wash, I told you–”

“Not about the sleeping. The last few months I know I–you were trying to message but I didn’t–I was–”

“I told you, I get why you did it,” Tucker said, but he cursed himself internally when his voice sounded much harsher than he wanted it to be. “And fuck, I don’t want to be the asshole who tells people to just get over it.”

“But you’re angry,” Wash said quietly, and Tucker hated that he couldn’t fully decipher the emotions in Wash’s voice.

Tucker sighed and stared at Wash, able to make out the outline of his face and the open eyes gazing at him. Both of them stayed perfectly still except for the rise and fall of their chests as they lay curled on their sides.

“I’m not mad, Wash.” Both of them kept their voices low, and the rest of the apartment remained in silent darkness. “I just–you’re my friend and I wanted to help you and do shit like this whenever you needed it, but instead it felt like you just cut me out entirely and that–it hurt.”

The admission felt easier to make with the dark cloaking him, but he still felt the words clawing at his skin and choking him with the vulnerability they exposed. “And now I just feel like a selfish prick.”

“Don’t,” Wash said sharply, and then lowered his voice again. “Don’t feel guilty for this.”

“Only if you don’t take it all on yourself,” Tucker shot back. That earned him a tired huff that bordered on quiet laughter.

“I’ll try my best,” Wash replied, and Tucker’s heart pounded at the hints of the familiar dry notes lacing through Wash’s tone.

“And I’ll be here to kick your ass into gear like you did with mine during water polo,” Tucker said, and that earned him another near laugh.

They both fell quiet after that. Tucker rolled onto his back and let his eyes fall shut as Wash remained on his side facing Tucker. Neither touched the other, but Tucker could feel the heat pouring off Wash.

Just as Tucker finally began to sink into sleep once more, he heard Wash whisper,

“Thank you, Tucker.”

***

**Thursday, February 22 nd, 75 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

When Wash grabbed Tucker outside of the hospital and the two clung to each other like lovers who had finally reunited again after years of thinking the other dead, Church pulled out his phone.

 _U sent Wash??_ Church texted his cousin, glancing up after the message sent. Neither Tucker nor Wash moved from their positions, and Church couldn’t make out the comforting words Tucker whispered to Wash.

 _Is he with you right now?_ Carolina’s reply came through a moment later and Church glared down at the phone.

_He showed up outside the hospital. Started yelling @ Tucker. Now they r hugging. He said u told him about it._

_If Tucker being hurt wasn’t going to get him involved again, nothing would._

_So what u r saying is u aren’t gonna take any blame for this._

_I thought you said they’re working it out. Why does there need to be blame?_

Tucker and Wash pulled apart before Church could respond and Church listened to Tucker ask Wash to come back to their apartment. Once everyone was safe and sound, Church hid in his room as fast as he could and sent an angry reply to Carolina.

_He’s @ our house now._

_So?_ Carolina texted back a few minutes later.

_So if they start making out, I blame u._

_Oh grow up._

_I don’t want to hear my roommate banging! Especially not with another friend._

_Just go have sex with your girlfriend if you don’t want to deal with this._

_Why don’t u go have sex with your fucking bf?_ Church replied, only feeling a little guilty given Carolina’s refusal to do anything about her desires for York.

_You know what, I think I will._

Church stared at his phone and the single message.

_Wait, what?_

He received no reply to that message or the several others he sent in rapid succession.

_R u serious?_

_Carolina?_

_DID U FINALLY START DATING YORK?_

_WTF??!!_

***

**Friday, February 23 rd, 76 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

Wash struggled to consciousness slowly in the morning, body continuing to feel groggy and heavy even once his eyes were open and he understood he had woken. It took a few minutes to piece together the events of the day before and remember he wasn’t in his own bed. The inability to remember clearly or wake up without being completely confused no longer threw him into the consuming panic it had for the first month after Epsilon died.

His heartbeat still spend up though, and the breath caught in his throat for a few seconds. He still hated that every morning his brain had to remember all over again that they lived in a reality in which Epsilon was dead, even though the nightmares Wash went through during the night taunted him with that fact.

Sometime in the night Wash had rolled onto his stomach. He didn’t know if was after the first bout of nightmares that Tucker woke during, or after the second round when Wash spent an hour listening to Tucker’s soft breathing before his body calmed enough to fall back asleep.

Regardless, he lay on his stomach when he woke with his head turned toward Tucker’s sleeping form. Tucker curled on his side with his dreads falling across his slack face and one arm carelessly thrown across Wash’s body. The comforter and sheets pressed down on both of them, and Wash burned where Tucker’s arm rested across Wash’s back.

For a long moment, Wash found himself incapable of looking away from the peaceful expression on Tucker’s face as the soft words whispered in darkness from the night before echoed in Wash’s mind. His throat went tight as an unnameable emotion suddenly swelled inside his chest and spread to every nerve in his body as all his memories of Tucker flooded his mind.

Wash couldn’t breathe, and it felt like something inside him might burst because those nerves that were lighting up with the overwhelming sentiment had nowhere else to go but inside him. They couldn’t escape as easily as the air in his lungs or be exchanged like blood, and the only thing capable of turning them off was death. So they kept firing inside Wash, burning him up where nothing could reach, leaving ash and small scars that hurt to touch everywhere.

And Wash still lived, which meant blood was always flowing, muscles always flexing, joints and bones always growing, and so something was _always_ touching those scars, even if outwardly he remained perfectly still except for the rise and fall of his chest.

So Wash did the only other thing possible to stop it.

He shut down.

He frantically pushed himself into a sitting position and stared at a blank wall before his nerves reached a crescendo that would leave his insides charred forever, and leave him incapable of returning to his prior state of being. He refused to examine that sentiment, to name it or poke it, and he didn’t let it spread any further than it had. He thought about everything else but those feelings, shoved them into the darkest galaxy of his mind where no pinprick of light penetrated.

When Tucker stirred beside him and finally blinked up at Wash, Wash had regained his composure once more. He didn’t look at Tucker for a little longer though, even when Tucker asked how he was feeling. Wash knew he should feel guilty for that, and he could feel the emotion shifting somewhere beneath the veneer of composure he forced to the surface, but it was so much safer to shield himself with apathy. Safer for him and safer for everyone else who could get caught in the crosshairs of Wash’s grief and guilt.

But holding onto that apathy was hard when he actually moved within Tucker’s sphere. Wash trailed after him silently as Tucker went into the kitchen and made them breakfast. He sat at the table and listened to Tucker ramble, unable to keep himself from commenting or beginning to fall back into the pattern of conversation he and Tucker had grown so comfortable with. When Tucker grinned at him, Wash felt his throat going tight again even as something inside him eased.

It was completely unfair that Tucker was simultaneously the person Wash wanted comfort from the most, and the person he couldn’t stand to see all of his shameful brokenness.

He would lose this battle, Wash realized when Tucker laughed at something on the laptop he brought to the kitchen for musical purposes. Now that he had seen Tucker again and spent more than twenty-four hours engulfed in Tucker’s presence, Wash wouldn’t be able to hide away in his house as he had for the past couple months. He wouldn’t be able to keep a complete distance between them, nor convince Tucker he was as okay as he claimed to be.

Wash wouldn’t be able to stop remembering how gentle Tucker had been in the aftermath of Wash’s nightmares, and he no longer knew if he could stop himself from reaching out for comfort with that memory branded in his mind.

They ended up back in Tucker’s bedroom after their late breakfast, relaxed in a way Wash had rarely felt the past couple months. They placed a multitude of pillows against the headboard and then rested against them side by side. Their arms brushed against each other whenever Tucker needed to pause the show they were watching on his laptop, but otherwise they both maintained a few inches of space between each other. Eventually, though, Tucker glanced at the clock and straightened.

“I gotta pick up Junior soon,” Tucker explained when Wash sent him a questioning look.

Everything inside Wash stilled in defense against the destructive panic such words triggered.

“Wash?” Tucker asked when Wash stayed frozen where he slouched against Tucker’s headboard.

“I have to go,” Wash managed to croak out. He forced himself upright despite the way his hands began to shake. “Before that.”

“Oh,” Tucker said, and Wash couldn’t get out an explanation despite the confusion coating Tucker’s voice. Instead, he pushed himself off the bed and then blinked around the room as panic clawed at his chest, trying to remember where he threw his clothes last night for he still wore Tucker’s PJs. “ _Oh_.”

Wash twisted slightly at the sudden and soft exclamation of understanding. He expected there to be pity in the stare Tucker trained on him, and he hunched his shoulders defensively on reflex. But Wash couldn’t find pity or scorn in Tucker’s gentle gaze, just a deep well of empathy that occasionally shone through Tucker’s usual abrasive and cocky attitude.

“Got it,” Tucker said, and Wash felt his shoulders slowly relax underneath Tucker’s gaze. Tucker slid off his bed and found Wash’s clothes within seconds before handing them to Wash.

“Tell Junior I’m sorry,” Wash finally forced out, because he owed the boy that much at least. He wanted to say more, but if he let his brain linger on the thought of Tucker’s small son any longer, he knew his thoughts would shift their focus to Epsilon, and Wash couldn’t handle that.

“It’s cool, dude,” Tucker replied, even though they both knew Junior likely wouldn’t understand why Wash continued to stay absent.

Not for the first time, Wash thought that they both deserved better and he tried to quell the frustration that strangled him.

But he couldn’t manage any further coherent words, exhaustion crashing on his shoulders out of nowhere much as it had for the past few months. He changed and gathered his bag as Tucker watched in silence, and then followed Wash out into the main room.

“Wash.” Wash stopped with his hand on the doorknob of the door leading to the outside hallway. He turned back around and Tucker moved toward him with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. “Do you wanna come over again tomorrow? I’m dropping Junior off at Doc’s for a bit and I wanna hang out, but there’s also some shit I think you should know.”

There was something heartbreaking about the hesitation in Tucker’s voice coupled with the sad and serious droop to his facial expression. Wash tried to remind himself he should be maintaining distance, and wondered how his heart could possibly feel so heavy when he had thought Epsilon’s death already inflicted all the pain he could possibly feel.

Instead of shutting down the suggestion outright, Wash found himself thinking about how much he must have missed of Tucker’s life in the past three months. Sarge had been sending him updates about the water polo team even though Wash barely responded, and Tucker sent messages about his life, but occasional text messages couldn’t capture all that his friend would have experienced. He looked more tired than Wash remembered, but also physically fitter, with a determined set to his jaw despite all the other softer sentiments written in his facial expression.

He wondered if Tucker had been trying just as hard as Wash once told him he should in order to achieve all that Wash believed Tucker capable of.

“Alright,” Wash heard himself say. “What time is Junior going to Doc’s?”

***

**Saturday, February 24 th, 77 Days After Epsilon’s Death **

In hindsight, Tucker realized he probably should have asked the others their opinion before he asked Wash to come over Saturday so he could tell him about the Director and the lifeguards’ plan. When he told Connie what he said to Wash and what he planned, she was eager to help and agreed to come over when Tucker explained everything.

Church, on the other hand, exploded at Tucker.

“Was one angry lifeguard not enough?” he shouted at Tucker an hour before Wash was due to show up. “I’ll be lucky just to survive this encounter with Carolina and now you want to bring an off-balance, grief-stricken, raging Wash into this fucking mess?”

“It’s not like this can make the situation any worse,” Tucker argued while Tex sat on the couch, watching the two of them face off in front of the television. Junior was already at Doc’s and the remains of their lunch were scattered across three plates still perched on the coffee table.

“I can think of a million fucking ways this could make it so much worse.”

“Did you actually give this any thought, Tucker?” Tex spoke up. “Or were you just letting your lovesick heart push words out of your mouth?”

“Oh like you two can talk,” Tucker shot back, looking between Tex’s unimpressed expression and Church’s furious one. “And as a matter of fact, I have given it a lot of thought and come up with a very eloquent explanation.”

The two of them just stared at him. “Okay, so Connie came up with the more eloquent parts of it and she’s gonna come help, but I _did_ give it a lot of thought. And you can’t tell me Wash doesn’t deserve to be a part of this after all the shit he’s gone through.”

“Alright,” Tex said before Church could get out another angry protest. She climbed off the couch and grabbed Church’s arm. “We’ll text you when we’re done with Carolina.”

“If we fucking live that long,” Church muttered, but didn’t try and resist Tex when she pulled them both out of the apartment a moment later.

Tucker offered his roommate the middle finger as they left. Then he washed the dishes as he tried to distract himself from the nerves building in his stomach as Wash’s arrival drew closer and closer.  

Wash showed up at exactly one pm, looking much more put together than he had the day before. He still looked tired and worn-out, but his clothes were clean and his hair washed. They took a seat on the couch and Tucker quickly texted Connie to let her know Wash had arrived. She replied immediately to say she was on her way. Then Tucker turned his attention back to the quiet Wash.

They talked for a few minutes about school and casual things, Wash sometimes taking a second to respond as if Tucker spoke a different language. His voice stayed quiet, but he asked about Tucker’s life and what had happened over the past couple months.

A text message from Church interrupted their conversation, and Tucker pulled out his phone to read the short message.  

_When I die, don’t let Caboose touch any of my shit._

“Wash,” Tucker said, finally forcing himself to start the serious conversation. Wash’s expression went stoic at the change in Tucker’s tone, and Tucker tried not to hesitate. “I need to talk to you about the Director.”

Wash went perfectly still at that, wide gaze locking onto Tucker’s face.

“What?” Wash ground out, and Tucker blinked at the viciousness in Wash’s voice. He quickly edited the mental script in his mind and glanced at his silent phone, wondering how close Connie was.

“Did he do something?” Tucker asked when Wash didn’t say anything more.

He laughed, and Tucker tried not to wince at the bitter notes infecting the broken sound. Tucker stayed quiet as the sound continued, shattering the silence that filled the rest of the small apartment.

“Did he _do_ something?” Wash repeated. Tucker stared and realized part of the reason Wash was holding himself so still was so he didn’t lash out with rage, the emotion spilling from his voice and eyes. “Oh, I’m sure there’s a lot of shit he did and a lot more people he hurt that we don’t even have a goddamn clue about.”

Wash looked away and bent over all in one fluid motion. He propped his elbows on his knees and then cradled his face in his hands while helplessness engulfed Tucker.

“Fuck,” he breathed, and he sounded like he had forgotten Tucker was even in the room. “I should’ve listened to Connie.”

Tucker couldn’t look away from Wash’s broken expression, or the way a thousand different emotions struggled for dominance over Wash’s hunched body. He remembered Connie saying Wash wouldn’t let her in either, and he wondered now if that had more to do with Wash’s quiet admission than the grief they both thought was causing him to push her away.

Then again, maybe it was both. Maybe it was all just one massive clusterfuck that everyone was attempting to navigate with a broken compass and no map.

Careful not to move too fast, Tucker reached out a steady hand to place on Wash’s tense shoulder. When Wash didn’t stiffen any further or lash out at Tucker, Tucker exhaled slowly.

“We found out some stuff about him,” Tucker said quietly. “Connie and Tex and Church–we all know what he did.”

A knock on the door cut off Wash’s reply, and they both looked up as Tucker called for the person to enter. Connie walked in slowly and her gaze went to the frozen Wash instantly.

“Hey, Wash,” she said with a gentle smile.

She took a few hesitant steps into the apartment as a heavy silence pervaded the apartment once more. When Wash didn’t move or say anything, Connie stopped a few feet away from the couch, her expression carefully calm. Seconds ticked by, and then Wash slowly began to look back and forth between her and Tucker.

“What’s happening?” Wash asked, anger bleeding away for a moment to give room to confusion.

Connie crossed the remaining distance and then took a seat beside him on the faded couch when Wash kept gazing at her and didn’t flinch away. She withdrew a green, squishy orb from her bag and handed it to Wash, who took it without hesitation.

“Maine thought we should give you a stress ball while we talked,” Connie said in explanation.

Wash shook his head, but they both spotted the wry smile tugging at his lips despite the confused grief in his eyes.

Connie smiled and then scooted closer to Wash. Tucker did the same when Wash leaned into the decreased space rather than react negatively to it. After Wash gave the stress ball a few experimental squeezes that caused the object to squish out between his fingers, Connie began to speak. Tucker had thought she should start since she was the one who had been involved the longest and could explain everything that happened before Tucker got involved.

Wash listened carefully, hand tightening around the stress ball periodically. The worse the incident at the pool was, the harder he gripped the ball as the rest of his body went still. Tucker kept his hand on Wash’s shoulder the entire time and the lifeguard didn’t shrug Tucker off.

When Connie began to apologize for keeping Wash out of the loop before Epsilon died, Wash let his head fall onto Connie’s shoulder.

“Sorry for not believing you,” he said as she wrapped an arm around his waist.

“It did sound pretty ridiculous in the beginning,” she admitted. “And even when I had more things that could prove it I just–I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

She sighed. “Guess that’s kinda null and void at the moment.”  

They stayed like that for a long moment, and then Wash slowly lifted his head to look at her. But Connie didn’t move any further away, as determined as Tucker to keep Wash safely tucked between the two of them as if that could protect him from any further trauma.

“I should have talked to you sooner,” Wash said. “After–after Epsilon. But every time I think about the fact that the Director _knew_ and–I just get so angry I can’t think straight.”

“That sounds pretty understandable to me,” Tucker said, and Wash turned to meet his eyes for the first time since Connie and Tucker started their explanation. Wash shook his head quickly.

“No, Tucker. I get so mad all I want to do is break something, _anything,_ and I don’t care what or who it is and that’s terrifying.”

The words poured out of Wash and his mouth turned into a tight line the second the last syllable left. Tucker glanced at Connie as she stared sadly at Wash. When she glanced up at Tucker, she seemed to rally herself.

“We’re going to make him pay, Wash,” she said, and then softened her tone. “Maybe you should speak to one of the school counsellors, too. They’re free and they might be able to help with emotional management.”

“And in the meantime, we’ve all got your back,” Tucker said. Wash didn’t reply for a long time, gaze going to the TV screen that was as blank as his expression while he mulled over his thoughts.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Wash finally asked, vacancy disappearing from his expression as he looked between the two of them.

So Tucker explained all that had happened since he got involved, and how they got the Reds and Blues to help. He explained the tasks they were all doing and the plan to tell Carolina that day since she finished her RCMP exam earlier in the week.

“You just told Carolina?” Wash asked, disbelief sneaking into his voice and making it go higher-pitched in a way Tucker missed. “How did that go?”

“Um.” Tucker glanced down at his phone and sent a quick message to Church. A few seconds later, the only reply Tucker got was,

_Dead._

“Decently,” Tucker said, and that got a half-smile out of Wash before it disappeared again under the weight of his anger and grief.

“I want in,” Wash said. “I’m not getting left out of something like this.”

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than the other two, but he didn’t take back his words. When Wash turned his gaze on Tucker, Tucker found he couldn’t look away as his heartbeat quickened in his chest.

“We said we’d join the others at Maine’s place after we talked to you,” Tucker said in response, and Wash’s body relaxed.

“Are you okay with seeing everyone?” Connie asked, and Wash just nodded.

Tucker was sure Connie knew as well as he that Wash wouldn’t readily admit how worried he might be about interacting with the coworkers he’d been shutting out for months now. Neither one of them said anything though, and after receiving confirmation from Tex that they were good to come over, they all headed out together. Wash had driven to Tucker’s, so he drove them all to Maine’s home where all the lifeguards and water polo players would be with Carolina.

Once they were parked in the driveway, Wash went still. Before Connie or Tucker could say anything, he squared his shoulders, closed his eyes briefly, and then got out of the car. Connie and Tucker were quick to follow and walked on either side of Wash as they headed to the house. Tucker knocked before Wash could flee, and then walked in when someone shouted at them.

Only Carolina and Church were in the living room when they entered. Carolina looked up from where she sat on the couch with crossed arms, Church sitting on the wooden floor across from her with a sullen look on his face. Before anyone could get a word out, South came down the stairs and spotted the trio standing in the doorway.

A grin broke across her face and she moved toward them in a flash.

“Attention, assholes,” South shouted, and wrapped an arm around Wash’s shoulders before he could react. “The rookie we all love to poke and tease is _back_.”

Tucker felt himself relaxing in response to her enthusiasm and he quickly snuck a look at Wash. The man blinked at South but didn’t try to pull away. Panic had spiked in his eyes at her sudden shout, but the emotion fled the longer she kept a loose arm slung around his shoulders and didn’t yell at _him._

“Maybe a little less volume right now, South,” Connie told her, and Wash sent her a grateful smile. South leaned a little more on Wash, but did lower her voice when she spoke again.

“Miss us yet, Wash?”

Before Wash could reply, North, York, and Kai all poked their heads out of the kitchen doorway and called for Wash’s attention.

“Hey, cop!” Kai shouted, and Tucker grinned at Wash’s muttered,

“Oh my god.”

“So I’m not the only one they kept out of the loop,” Carolina commented as North and York moved toward the trio and they moved further into the house.

The door shut on the cold weather outside, and Tucker took a couple steps away from Wash so North and York could surround their co-worker. They offered him genuine smiles and hands to his shoulders despite South’s grip on him. Wash looked apprehensive at their approach, but when they offered him the same easy banter they always had and circled around him in a gesture of comfort, Wash started to relax.

“Told you that,” Church told Carolina, but instantly fell quiet when she turned a glare on him.

Tucker opened his mouth to ask where the others were, but the sound of footsteps overhead and Sarge’s booming voice cut him off. They all came down the stairs in one large mass with Tex slowly taking up the rear.

“Washington!” Caboose yelled, and then launched himself at Wash.

Wash took a startled step back but didn’t attempt to flee. He shook his head a little helplessly at whatever Caboose said, and then offered him a gentle smile.

“Bout time you got your Blue ass out here again,” Sarge said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Grif rolled his eyes behind the older man, but Tucker caught the happy gleam in all of their eyes as they crowded near Wash. For the moment, their contagious happiness and optimism seemed to soothe Wash from where he stood safely tucked between the other lifeguards.

“Alright,” Tex called from where she now stood in the center of the living room, and the conversation slowly died away.

She glanced once at Tucker and then at Wash who looked slightly uncertain at some of the words spoken to him, but nowhere close to breaking down where he stood protected by the others. A slight smile touched her lips, and Tucker couldn’t help but feel his own heart lighten at the sight of Wash standing in the middle of their group again just as he always should.

Tex placed her hands on her hips and spoke once more.

“Let’s get down to business.”

***

  **Tuesday, February 27 th, 80 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

Kimball was not having a good day.

After getting a grand total of four hours of restless sleep, she woke to her phone vibrating so hard on her bedside table, it fell right onto the ground. With barely open eyes, she fumbled in the darkness of her bedroom to grab the fallen item without moving from her double bed. Messages from three different parents waited for her, informing her that they think the day will be bad in terms of dealing with the grief of Epsilon’s death. Theta’s mom said he was being weepy that morning before going to school, Omega was apparently even angrier than usual, and Sigma was barely responsive.

Kimball closed her eyes briefly against the messages and pressed the palms of her hands against her face as if that simple action can push away her own grief.

The day didn’t get much better. Even without a water polo practice that morning due to the match that afternoon, Kimball didn’t stay in bed once she’s awake. Her coffee machine broke, she wiped out on ice when she went for a run, her hydro bills were more than she expected; all smaller things that piled up and up until she just wanted to lock herself in her home in her pajamas until she was calm enough to not murder anyone.

Instead she went to the grocery store where some old man bitched at her for supposedly blocking the aisle and she received a message from Bitters saying his parents might be grounding him from playing water polo because he punched someone at school. When Kimball messaged him back for an explanation, all he said was somebody was messing with a friend and he’d just sneak out if his parents said he couldn’t go to the game.

The end of school crept closer and closer, and soon Sigma and Omega arrived at Kimball’s doorstep. As their parents warned, both of them were in bad moods. Sigma barely responded to any of Kimball’s words while Omega swore at her within five minutes of showing up. Kimball wished she was the type to actually like naps, because after half an hour with the teenagers, she was starting to think she could have used the extra minutes of sleep that afternoon.

Andersmith and Katie showed up at three pm, though there wasn’t much for them to do until the younger kids needed to be picked up and the water polo match started. Katie tried to show Sigma one of the shop projects she was working on, but the teenager lacked any of his usual interest. Trying to talk to either of them about what’s wrong resulted in Sigma insisting he was fine and Omega just swearing about the cold and snow outside.

Kimball drove to pick up Theta, Gamma, Delta, Eta, and Iota at three-thirty. Theta launched himself at her as soon as he spotted her, and wouldn’t stop hugging her until the other children were there to form a protective circle around him. He calmed down a little once Delta and Iota held his hands and the other two chatted with him, but Kimball still found her jaw clenching at his obvious distress and her inability to permanently fix it.

Once they crossed the icy parking lot to the van, all four begin to talk about how excited they are to watch a water polo match and see Doyle again. Their loud voices grinded on Kimball’s ears even as she gave them all relieved smiles at seeing happiness chase away some of their sadness. Andersmith and Katie were just as eager when they returned home, telling the children how they finally had a chance to beat Felix’s team.

But as they were getting ready to pile into the minibus and head to the pool, Kimball walked in on Katie panicking in the living room.

“I don’t have my suit and goggles,” she told Kimball upon her entrance, backpack gaping open with its contents spilling out in front of her. “I swear I packed them last night but they’re not here and maybe I actually left them on my desk. Oh god, I’m so sorry I thought–”

“It’s okay,” Kimball cut her off, the children crowding around with worried faces as Kimball’s mind raced. “We’ll go get them. You have a key, right?”

“Do we have time?” Andersmith questioned from by the window. “Randy and Timothy are sick, Palomo just texted me to say he’s running late, and Bitters just said he’s still trying to get out of trouble which means if we’re not there either, there won’t be enough players. We’ll have to forfeit.”

“Everyone get in the bus,” Kimball ordered. “We’ll make it work.”

She couldn’t handle one more thing going wrong that day, or Theta’s smile replaced with tears when the thought of the game had finally stopped them. The children and teenagers all followed her orders without question, and hurried to grab their coats and other winter clothes. Theta shoved his gloved hand into Delta’s before the two trotted out to the bus with the others behind them while they tried not to slip on the ice. Kimball pulled out her phone and quickly flicked to her contacts as she locked up the house.

“Hello?” Doyle picked up on the second ring, and she could hear the echo of people talking at a pool on his end.

“Doyle, we’re running late and I need you to stall,” she said as she headed down the walkway to her bus. Already a fine layer of snow had formed over the pavement she shovelled that morning, though there are only a few lazy flakes still floating through the air at the moment.

“Stall?”

“We’re not going to be there at four. Katie forgot her stuff at her place, and Bitters and Palomo are still trying to get there–”

“Bitters just texted me saying he might need a ride,” Andersmith told her when she reached the bus. She just nodded and climbed into the driver’s seat while Andersmith climbed into the seat behind her and leaned around the bench seat.

“Correction, we might need to get Bitters. Which means you’re going to be down those four players and the two that are sick–”

“We’ll have to forfeit then,” Doyle said, and Kimball bit back a curse word.

“Not if you tell the referee we’re on our way,” Kimball reminded him. “Just act like it’s a business presentation your partner’s running late for.”

Doyle was quiet for a second.

“While the referee seems an agreeable fellow, you know Felix would be more than happy to convince his coach not to accommodate for us.”

“Then _stall_ ,” Kimball snapped. “Use that miniscule brain of yours and grow a spine for once in your miserable life.”

She hung up the phone before he could respond and took a deep breath as her hands clenched the steering wheel.

“Ms. Kimball?” Andersmith asked quietly, and the twins echoed him from behind.

“It’s okay,” she told all of them without looking behind her. “It will all be okay.”

A part of her brain hissed that Doyle would never pull through for them despite the simplicity of the task, and joining teams was one of the most foolish decisions she’s ever made. After all, seemingly better men than he had broken her trust before, and the two of them had never reached a permanent truce in all of their years of knowing each other.

But she couldn’t focus on that, she had to focus on the slushy roads and getting everyone safely to Katie’s house and then to Bitters and then to the Blood Gulch Pool. By the time they got Bitters and were pulling into the parking lot of the pool, it was half past four. Kimball’s phone buzzed twenty minutes beforehand, but she told Andersmith she would just read it herself when they got to the pool.

Once the van was in standstill, she told everyone to remain where they were as she checked the messages. All of them were from Doyle, and she didn’t bother to read the rest of them when she saw the first one from twenty minutes ago that said,

_I had to forfeit._

Any remaining emotional control she had shattered.

“Stay in the van,” she ordered everyone. She did’t look back at their shocked expressions but when Katie said her name she added, “Doyle forfeited. There’s no match and I want you to stay here while I go talk to him. Am I understood?”

She didn’t think her voice had ever been so cold when talking to them, but she didn’t stop to see what their reactions were, or hear their verbal agreement. She threw herself out of the bus, slammed the door shut, and then marched into the building.

Felix’s team was already gone from the deck and most of the players from their team were also in the change rooms. Doyle remained on the pool deck by the benches alone, still wearing slacks and dress shirt with a tie from work, his charcoal jacket thrown over his arm. He looked up when she started striding across the pool deck, and his expression immediately shuttered into a guarded one.

“Now, Ms. Kimball–”

“You have got to be fucking _kidding_ me,” she shouted at him, drawing to a halt directly in front of him as he straightened. “How? How are you this much of a spineless, passive, cowardly man that you couldn’t even explain to the fucking referee that some of our players were having issues at school and we needed time? How could you not manage to convince him to let us play short for the start until our other players showed up? How were you not able to stay firm for more than ten fucking minutes?”

“Felix–”

“Oh, so you let the fucking bratty teenager ruin the rest of our season? That’s perfect, that’s actually even _better_ than you not being able to just talk to another adult–”

“At least I _tried_! But nothing I do is ever good enough for you, is it, Ms. Kimball? Your standards are _completely_ unreasonable and–”

“ _My_ standards are unreasonable? You don’t even have any!”

It didn’t stop. Kimball did a lot of the yelling, but Doyle was quick to start in as well. His face got more and more flushed the more she shouted, but he still tried to interject when he could. It continued until they were both screaming at each other, and only the shrill sound of a whistle cut them off.

“You two need to stop right now and leave the premise,” Tex said from where she stood in the doorway of the guardroom. She headed toward them, the other lifeguards watching with wide eyes from the safety of the separate room. “Otherwise I will call the police on you.”

She turned her gaze fully on Kimball who could feel some of her anger but none of her defensiveness fading away. “And I really don’t think you want to put those kids through that.”

Kimball didn’t bother responding to that, just clenched her jaw and offered Doyle one last glare before she turned away. Mid turn she caught a glimpse of Doyle’s face as the indignation crumpled into a twisted expression of pain and shame. Then she was striding away and back out to the waiting bus.

She could see the kids all pressing their faces to the windows of the bus to catch a glimpse of her, and she forced herself to school her face into a more neutral expression as she walked across the parking lot to them.

When she climbed into the driver’s seat, an expectant silence pressed down on her shoulders and she stared out the windshield for a long moment.

“Did you talk to him?” Katie finally dared to ask, and Kimball turned around to look directly at all of them. Everyone’s eyes were wide in their small faces, the younger children looking confused while the teenagers seemed in shock. Omega in particular seemed taken aback by whatever anger was still in her eyes.

“Yes,” Kimball said. “I’m sorry, Katie, the referee was already gone.”

“So, you lost?” Eta asked when the hope vanished from Katie’s face.

“Yes.”

“Does that mean we don’t get to see Mr. Doyle?” Iota asked, and Andersmith replied for Kimball when he saw the way her face tightened.

“No, Iota,” Andersmith said gently. “Ms. Kimball is very mad with Mr. Doyle right now so we’re just going to go home and have fun there.”

“We can all have some hot chocolate and watch a movie,” Kimball said when she saw the way Theta’s expression fell. The expression just made her want to go yell at Doyle some more, even as she realized it would only make Theta more upset. “Okay?”

Once everyone more or less agreed, Kimball started the bus again and began to drive away. Emotions continued to pound through her, anger giving way to exhaustion and frustration that made it hard to focus on the steering wheel or the quiet children behind her.

She dropped Bitters off at his home first, and then they all made it to Kimball’s house in one piece. Everyone piled into the living room while Kimball, Andersmith, and Katie went to work on the hot chocolate. Kimball sent Katie and Andersmith into the living room when she heard the children arguing over the movie choice. In the quiet kitchen with a simple task to keep her busy, Kimball felt an aching tiredness fill the holes the rage carved out. She wanted to push her thoughts away from the whole mess, but they kept wandering back; back to the words that poured from her mouth, the protestations that dripped from Doyle’s, and finally the vulnerability she’d only caught a glimpse of at the very end.

Bringing out the hot chocolate to everyone distracted her for a few moments, and she joined them all for the movie. Theta curled up in her lap, and Delta pressed against her right side. But it was Gamma who claimed her left side before any else could, scooting up onto the couch with his hot chocolate and leaning against her. Kimball didn’t question his rare show of physical affection, just wrapped an arm around him. The others decided to spread out blankets and pillows on the ground and all lie on them to watch the movie rather than occupy the remaining couch.

The movie was a happy one, but even a happy story could make one feel bad when they were already sad. Everyone stayed quiet rather than offer their usual commentary, and Kimball sunk deeper and deeper into her own thoughts.

Only Delta and the twins stayed for dinner, all the others picked up by their parents as Kimball started preparation for the meal. Kimball told Katie and Andersmith they could stay for dinner or go home as she could watch the three remaining children on her own. Katie was the first to leave and Kimball assured her once more none of what happened is her fault. Andersmith left after dinner and after setting up a board game for the remaining children at the dining room table while Kimball put all the dishes away.

“Are you alright, Ms. Kimball?” Andersmith asked softly just as he was ready to leave, backpack slung over his shoulder while he stood in the kitchen doorway. Kimball blinked up at him from where she’d been staring into space with a plate in her hand.

“I’m fine,” she assured him quickly. He hesitated, glancing away and then back in a way that reminded her he was still a teenager who viewed her as the infallible adult, no matter how mature he acted.

“Thinking about the shouting match?” Andersmith guessed, and Kimball placed the plate in the dishwasher.

“It was a pretty loud one,” Kimball replied, and said nothing more about it. “But I’m fine, Andersmith.”

He nodded, and then added before he left,

“Well I’m sure you made him feel truly awful for failing us!”

For some reason, that only made Kimball feel more tired, and she wondered if maybe she was simply growing tired of negative emotions in general. She offered Andersmith a smile as he headed out the front door, though, rather than showing any more vulnerability than that which she accidentally let slip. The quiet only lasted for a moment, Eta asking from the living room,

“Why did you get mad at Mr. Doyle?”

Kimball didn’t sigh but it was a close thing. She headed to the doorway of the living room and leaned on the frame as she studied the children looking up at her. The pieces of _Sorry!_ were scattered in front of them, but none of them paid any attention to the game while she tried to think of how best to phrase her answer.

“He was a coward when we really needed him to be brave,” Kimball told them. “And he used to do the same thing sometimes when we worked together in business.”

“Why wasn’t he brave?” Eta asked after considering Kimball’s answer for a few seconds.

“Maybe he’ll be brave if we cheer for him!” Iota suggested, and she straightened in her chair with the idea.

“Like how you do better on a test if your parents say good luck, and you do worse if they yell at you right before,” Delta said with a nod and thoughtful look.

Kimball stared at them and the spark of eager agreement in their faces. The affection burned her skin after all the shouting she did at the object of such fondness. The sentiments clawed at her memories, dragging forward all those moments where she almost believed in the possibility of a positive relationship with Doyle. All the moments where he did something deserving of a grudging respect rather than the volatile anger she gave him for all the times of incompetence and disagreement.

She headed to the table and took a seat at the head of it, Delta on her right and Iota on her left. Kimball propped her elbow on the table and leaned her head against her hand as she studied the three children.

“You guys really like him, huh?” she said, trying to ignore all the different emotions that had suddenly begun to fight each other inside her chest.

“He gives me a nice hugs and doesn’t think I’m weird for wanting them,” Iota exclaimed at the same time Eta replied,

“He answers all of our questions.”

“He seems smart,” Delta added. “And he doesn’t act like we are dumb just because we’re not adults.”

“I think Omega thinks he’s a weenie,” Iota said, and the implication that Kimball’s thoughts were similar to a perpetually angry adolescent boy did nothing to make Kimball feel better about the situation.

“But Omega thinks _everyone’s_ a weenie,” Eta pointed out. “I think Sigma liked him alright.”

“Gamma just thinks he’s a shisno like everyone else,” Delta said. “But Theta thinks he is really nice and is happy he gives us all a turn to speak because Sigma and Omega are always so loud.”

Kimball leaned harder against her hand as their words forced her to consider Doyle as the fallible but intelligent and kind human being the children saw, rather than the perpetually incompetent fool she and her team had categorized him as.

“Do you think Epsilon would have liked him?” Iota asked quietly after a second’s pause and all the other children went motionless.

The urge to close her eyes against the reality and the thoughts the question triggered overwhelmed Kimball, but she kept her gaze on the solemn Iota.

“I don’t know,” Kimball told her.

It hurt to consider the question and to make an attempt to imagine all that Epsilon would have thought and felt if he still lived. That he wasn’t alive to tell them himself what he thought made Kimball’s chest ache, as did thinking about what would have caught his eye enough about the game and Doyle to take a picture of.

She could feel her throat growing tight with all of the stress and exhaustion of the day building on top of the grief that was always lurking in the background as it waited for the perfect opportunity to take over.

“I think he would have,” Iota declared, and she grabbed her twin’s hand on the surface of the table. “Cuz Mr. Doyle’s on the same team as us and I think he would like all of Epsilon’s pictures just like everyone else.”

“I miss Epsilon’s pictures,” Delta said so quietly Kimball almost didn’t catch it. It was one of the few times he had made a vocal admission, and Kimball quickly lifted her head from her hand so she could reach out and take Delta’s in her own. He squeezed her fingers and she gripped back just as tightly.

“I do too,” Kimball told him, and there was guilt pricking at her alongside the grief after all their words.

No doubt the three would had been shocked had they overheard everything Kimball had said, especially after Delta’s words about being encouraging rather than having a shouting match loud enough to have the lifeguards come break it up. And their words triggered the grudging thought that maybe all the exhaustion and grief of that day from Epsilon’s death had made her more volatile and harsh with Doyle than he deserved.

The children’s parents showed up less than an hour later, and Kimball helped them gather their things before handing them over to their parents’ waiting arms. Before Iota and Eta disappeared out the door though, Iota turned around and grabbed Kimball’s sleeve in the bright hallway.

“Will Mr. Doyle be okay?” Iota whispered, mother herding Eta to the car as she glanced back at them over her shoulder. A fear that had only appeared following Epsilon’s death danced in Iota’s eyes, and Kimball knew it stemmed from the newfound awareness that no one was safe from death.

“Yes, Iota,” Kimball replied her. “He’ll be just fine.”

“Are you sure?” Iota asked, and Kimball took her small hand in her own.

“Positive.” When Iota still looked uncertain even as her mom reappeared at the doorway, Kimball added, “I’ll make sure of it, okay?”

“Okay,” Iota agreed. Her shoulders relaxed a little and she let her mom lead her away after one last hug for Kimball.

Kimball waved goodbye as their van drove away, and then she was shutting the front door on the cold air and locking herself in an empty house.

She stood in the hallway for a long moment and then looked around her as the quiet pressed uncomfortably on her ears. She heard the echoes of her conversation with the children over and over again when she cleaned up the living room and dining room. Their voices and the mixed feelings of guilt they triggered followed her upstairs to her dark and empty bedroom.

She sat on the edge of the bed and gripped the blue fabric of her comforter between her fingers as her mind dragged up the brief glimpse of Doyle’s face she got when she turned away, and the way he looked as if her words were tearing him apart as surely as a hurricane.

“Son of a bitch,” she sighed, and then she was moving down to the front door, grabbing her purse as she went.

The cold winter air jabbed at her face, but she slid into car and turned on the engine within seconds. Thanks to a business party after one of their few joint projects, she knew exactly where Doyle lived as the address was still in her phone under his number. She also knew she wouldn’t be disturbing anyone else, having never seen a ring on Doyle’s fingers during all the years and no girlfriend mentioned in the past couple of months.

Kimball made a quick stop at the LCBO first, heading straight to the wine section after remembering Doyle preferred that to any other alcoholic drink. She hesitated once she actually stood in the aisle, but she reminded herself this was supposed to be a truce offering and she didn’t trust her words to do that alone after all the times they had turned to harshness in his presence.

Kimball grabbed a bottle and then headed back out to her car after paying. Stars were straining to creep out from behind clouds, and the clock on her dashboard informed her she was going to be showing up at Doyle’s door after screaming her head off at him at ten pm at night.

For once, she decided to ignore the voice inside her head that whispered about what a terrible idea this whole thing was and how it would never work out.

When Kimball pulled into the driveway of Doyle’s bungalow in a quiet residential street far from downtown, the blinds were drawn but she could see a light behind them. She forced herself to get out of the car as quickly as possible so she didn’t have time to doubt herself. With the wine bottle clutched to her chest, she charged up the walkway as the wind tugged at her long hair.

She knocked before she could change her mind and then waited for any sign of life beyond the door. There was no answer for a long moment, and Kimball craned her gaze up to the sky and watched her breath drift toward the pinpricks of light.

Just as she decided the whole thing is pointless and began to turn around to head back to her car, the door swung open. Doyle stood in the doorway wearing the same outfit as that afternoon, but the clothes looked significantly more crumpled. His surprised face was red and splotchy from crying, blond hair sticking up everywhere as if he had been running his hands through it constantly.

It was the least put together she had ever seen him, and she had seen him attempting to run a business meeting on two hours of sleep and three cans of Red Rain.

“Ms. Kimball,” he said, and it was more shocked than hostile. The defensiveness took over his expression and forced his shoulders upright a second later. “Come to yell at me some more?”

Instead of trying to force words from her mouth, she just shoved the wine bottle at him. He took it from her after a second, and the guardedness melted into confusion.

“You prefer wine, right?” she confirmed when he didn’t say anything, just stood there staring at her as snow began to drift through the air around them.

“I–yes but.” He held the bottle a little closer to his chest. “What is it for?”

“I _may_ have been a little harsher than I should have,” Kimball finally got out, forcing herself to think about the children’s words as she shoved her hands into her jacket’s pockets to ward off the cold. “Though I still think you were wrong to forfeit.”

Doyle just stared and stared until Kimball felt her old impatience for the man spark.

“Right, well it’s pretty cold and late so–”

“Come in,” Doyle said abruptly, and it was Kimball’s turn to go quiet in surprise. “Please, if you–I assume you’re done babysitting for the day so.”

Kimball didn’t know what he was thinking or if he even was, but she found herself following him inside regardless. Doyle closed the door behind her and she stopped to do a quick sweep of the open-concept bungalow she had seen only once before.

The kitchen was immediately to her left, cream marble counters along the walls and forming an island in the middle which dark wooden cupboards hung above.

The hardwood floor of the living room and dining room stretched in front of her to the windows looking out on the backyard. A single step immediately beyond the kitchen led down to the two black couches placed around a coffee table with a large TV hanging on the wall to their left. Beyond the step to the right sat a small dining room table and a stereo on the table pressed against the wall to its right.

There were photos hanging on the white walls and bookshelves bracketing the TV, but Kimball only got a glimpse of one photo in which Doyle stood on the plateau of some mountain before the man himself led her to the couches.

Despite thinking it was a better idea to leave before another argument could occur, Kimball sat beside Doyle when he lowered himself onto the cushions. His closed laptop and a Kleenex box rested on the coffee table and he placed the unopened bottle of wine beside them. A hallway beside the bookshelves led to what she assumed was the bedrooms and bathrooms. From somewhere in that direction, she could hear the steady ticking of a grandfather clock, and the sound filled the silence between them.

“The children all got home safely then?” Doyle asked after a moment of glancing around the room while they sat side by side. Kimball focused her gaze back on him rather than the smaller details of the room and the single light above them that did nothing to penetrate the shadows of the furthest corners of the room.

“Delta and the twins were the only ones who stayed after dinner,” Kimball replied. “Their parents got them a couple hours ago.

“Good good,” Doyle said with a jerky nod, and silence pervaded the room once more.

Kimball knew she should be directing the situation, but for once didn’t know what she wanted to say. In the quiet stillness, the exhaustion from countless nights of fragmented and troubled sleep seemed to press down on her shoulders all at once and hinder her attempts to form words. “How did the others take our forfeit?”

“They were upset,” Kimball said tightly, though she could at least appreciate the dismissal of any further small talk. “They thought we finally had a chance to kick Felix and Locus’ asses, and after the grief they’ve experienced recently, we really could have used something good happening. Not a forfeit because you couldn’t fucking stall for five minutes.”

“Yes, I imagine that would have been disappointing,” Doyle agreed, and Kimball stared at the concession. He adjusted his glasses a little and glanced at the laptop before looking back at her. “Though it was more Felix who was the problem, not the referee.”

“You mentioned before you were intimidated by a _teenager_.”

“You know just as well as me he is no ordinary teenager,” Doyle shot back sharply. “He has absolutely no qualms about causing others pain, and since his father works in the same field as me, he knows all sorts of things he shouldn’t about my work and the company.”

She opened her mouth, but Doyle continued before she can get a word out. “But you were right.”

Kimball shut her mouth quickly and Doyle looked at his laptop again as he continued. “I shouldn’t have let his words affect me, no matter how personal they were. I shouldn’t have let his threats intimidate me.”

The spaciousness of the room seemed to shrink, all the emptiness pressing against them until they existed in a dome of light big enough only for the two of them. “You were right to call me a coward, even the company thinks that about me. Said it just this morning, as a matter of fact, when they gave me a new project and made it clear just how disappointed they would be if it was as lacking in boldness as my other recent ones have been.”

She stared as tears started to fall down his cheeks and for a moment she found herself frozen by the obviousness of Doyle’s distress. Doyle didn’t look at her and he kept blinking as if that could stop the liquid. Instead, they only seemed to fall faster and she heard the way his breathing hitched with panic, though whether it was panic over the project or panic over crying in front of someone, she couldn’t tell.

It was one of the most awkward situations Kimball had experienced in a while, but simply sitting there only made it worse. She couldn’t make herself feel apathetic either, something twisting alongside the shock wrapping around all her blood vessels and causing her to shift in her seat. A heavy lump formed in her stomach in a similar way to guilt, but it jabbed her the same way her own personal grief did.

So before she could really think about her decision, she reached out and wrapped one arm around Doyle’s shoulders. She felt him stiffen for a second, no doubt in part because of how stiff she held herself, but then he was slumping against her as if her body could protect him from all the things tearing him apart from the inside out.

He kept crying and she kept sitting there while trying not to let her body go too tense. She gave the children hugs all the time after all, especially when they were crying, so she should have been used to that particular brand of comfort. When she tried to tell herself that though, all she could think of was how similar this hug was to the very last one she gave Epsilon, and that only made her want to go more rigid.

Kimball closed her eyes for a moment, and felt like a small child hoping when she reopened them everything would have turned out to simply be a nightmare. She knew too well, though, how futile such wishes were.

Time ticked by, the steady sound of the grandfather clock joining the constant background noise to her breathing and his crying. Doyle eventually calmed down and neither one of them said anything while he sniffled and wiped at his face. Kimball lowered her arm and shifted so there was a few inches of space between them. She didn’t know what to do in the aftermath of tears coming from someone so close to her own age, especially someone she had spent so much time arguing with. It broke free of their usual script and left blank spaces where their spoken lines normally were, and neither were capable of improvising for a long moment.

So Kimball waited to see what Doyle would do after revealing so much of his personal stress, wondering if she should just leave then and save them both from what was sure to be another fight.

“Sorry,” he said, and it was the soft tone of his voice more than the apology that stole her words. He didn’t look at her. “I know you didn’t come over to hear that, especially when I’m sure you’ve never had to deal with such an issue.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he started with a defensive note in his voice to match her own, before all the fight suddenly went out of him. He turned to look at her and she found herself incapable of looking away. “It means that I’ve always admired you and your strength of character, even if your stubbornness makes me want to throw you in the pool half the time.”

“What?” she said, frowning even though she couldn’t seem to find the dishonesty she wanted to see in his gaze.

“Is that really so hard to believe?” he asked her, and she could hear traces of frustration in his voice.  

“Given that we’ve spent the last few years fighting in both business and water polo, do you really expect me to believe any compliments from you?”

He stayed quiet for a moment, studying her defiant expression.

“Then why are you here?” he asked. “Why the wine and the visit? Why the kindness towards me if you can’t expect the same from me? You were never the type to feel pity for your rivals.”

“The children like you,” Kimball finally said. Doyle looked surprised but not doubtful of her answer; for all their fighting, she realized they had never once lied to each other and the thought made her uncomfortable. “Iota and Eta and Delta–they were wondering why I yelled and didn’t seem to like the fact that you were upset.”

“You told them I was upset?”

“They assumed.” She glanced away and then back to him. “They tend to be upset about anyone yelling at them, I guess they thought you’d feel the same.”

“They don’t seem like they have ever done anything to warrant your particular brand of shouting.”

“Because they’re _children_ , and yet still more competent than you half the time,” she snapped, and then took a deep breath when he inched back.

Yelling and insulting him even more than she had definitely wasn’t what the children had meant when they suggested they encourage him, and not what she intended before he had thrown her off with the compliment. At the very least, she didn’t want to see him cry again, and feel the uncomfortable twist of an unnameable mixture of emotions in her chest. The anger was harder to find when faced with that unmistakable display of humanity, and even after all the times they had worked together, she didn’t know how to handle him without that furious emotion fuelling her actions.

“They do seem like very smart children,” Doyle said into the pause. “I imagine very brave ones after spending all this time with you.”

“You did well with them,” she replied, and her compliment took both of them by surprise even if it was spoken through clenched teeth.

She thought of them and all of the grief they had experienced recently. She thought of the way Epsilon had hunched in on himself when he talked about his parents fighting and she told him it wasn’t his fault. She thought of the way each day felt like a fight just to keep functioning like normal so she could support the children and not make them or all those involved feel any worse than they already did.

She thought of the way she had to beat back the despair each morning as she had after she first lost her job and had yet to become a babysitter.

Exhaustion pressed down on her shoulders but she had been fighting for so long, she didn’t know how to stop anymore.

“They just lost a friend,” Kimball continued. “At the pool, he had an epileptic attack–the doctors couldn’t help him. It’s been hard for them so we didn’t– _I_ didn’t think they’d really want to speak to any strangers at the pool, especially not you. But you treated them well and now they keep asking about the practices and you, and they’re always happy when they get attend a practice and see you.”

“I heard about Epsilon. I’m sorry, that must be very hard for them and you.” He hesitated, picking up the wine bottle and staring at the label rather than looking at her. “I lost a very young cousin a couple years back–we weren’t as close as you must have been with Epsilon, and obviously they are not equal nor the same but–well, I understand a little bit how hard things must be for you and them right now.”

The acknowledgement of her own grief caught Kimball off-guard. Most everyone who knew about the death had been focusing on the children and the parents’ grief, including Kimball herself. Only those who had been on her water polo team before and helped babysit asked how she was coping, but they never pushed the matter when she made it clear the conversation was over or pushed their attention to something else.

Not a healthy thing to do, her mother had said briefly over the phone when they talked the week before, but also easier to do, especially when everyone else chose to do the same.

Doyle set the wine bottle down and folded his hands in his lap as Kimball shoved away any thoughts about Epsilon to focus on the matter at hand. “I suppose Tucker and the others thought us being on the same team would make things less difficult in general.”

Kimball snorted at that. She recalled their earnest expressions and wondered as she had then if the determination in Tucker’s jaw had been because he was sick of everything going wrong and desperately wanted one thing to work out. They hadn’t been doing the greatest job if that was what he wanted.

“That’s because they don’t know our history,” Kimball pointed out. “They just thought they were doing both our teams a favour, helping us continue in the league.”

“It was bit short-sighted, wasn’t it?” Doyle said, and he smiled slightly at the hint of agreement between them. “Though I’ll admit I shared some of their optimism. Why did you agree if you didn’t?”

“I never said I _didn’t_.” She leaned back, allowing her gaze to do another sweep of the clean room, lingering on the familiar titles she could make out on the bookshelf shoved against the wall across from them. “I guess I hoped I wouldn’t want to throw the water polo ball in your face quite as much.”

“And _I_ thought I would stop wanting to throw you in the pool as much.”

“I’d like to see you try that someday,” she shot back.

“Yes, well I happen to quite like my face as it is, so I think I’ll avoid doing anything that would leave a permanent mark.”

There was almost a hint of something lighter in both their tones despite the knowledge that she would actually do it. It wasn’t like their time in business together was completely devoid of objects flying through the air in meeting rooms.  

They both fell quiet but Kimball didn’t move. Doyle didn’t tell her to get out of his house either, which was what Kimball expected by that point. Instead, he picked up the bottle again and read the label.

“Clos du Soleil’s Signature,” he said, and he couldn’t hide the appreciation his voice. “This is my favorite Bordeaux-style blend.”

He glanced at her and offered a hesitant smile. “Well, at the very least I can’t fault you for your taste in wine.”

“It was a random choice,” Kimball replied. “It just looked like something you would like.”

“How so?”

She glanced at the bottle again even though the answer was instantaneous.

“Pretentiously expensive,” she said, but instead of taking offense, he blushed.

“My tastes do tend to the expensive side,” he admitted, and then stood. “But I believe you would greatly appreciate the wild blueberry and cherry aromas, and I cannot in good conscience let you spend another day ignorant of its taste.”

He didn’t look at her as he headed into the kitchen with a determined set to his jaw. Kimball watched him pull down two wine glasses from the cupboards over the counter and found her gaze wandering back to the bookshelves. With the liquid pouring from the bottle in a sign of a tentative truce, she allowed herself to get up and examine the titles more closely.

“Huh,” she found herself saying out loud when she recognized more than half the titles, and not because they were all classical English novels.

She shut her eyes against the titles of the trashy science fiction novels, only to find the world still tilting a little despite not having had a single sip of wine yet.

“You know,” she said, not opening her eyes just yet as some of the fight seeped out of her. “I thought these would be the bookshelves you kept in your bedroom, not the living room.”

“I have another one in my bedr–oh.”

Doyle cut himself off as he remembered what books were on the shelves, and when she opened her eyes and turned around, he stood at her shoulder with a wine glass proffered to her.

“Now look,” he began. “I know some of them don’t have the best writing, but the imagination that goes into them–”

“Excuse you, _The Stars My Destination_ has the best writing I’ve read all year,” she snapped back before she could stop herself.

In the following silence, they both stared at each other and tried not to stumble at the way the world reorganized itself around them.

“So the one in your bedroom is the same?” Kimball finally asked, taking the wine glass he handed her on instinct.

“They’re a nice change from everything else, wouldn’t you say?”

She nodded and took a sip of the wine, lowering the cup to raise an eyebrow at the liquid after.

“I don’t taste any cherry,” she told him.

“You are hopeless,” he said, but it lacked any real bite, and instead sounded like the exasperated teasing of her old co-workers. He asked before she can retort, “May I ask which one here is your favourite?”

She looked between him and the bookshelf, but found herself relenting the information easily enough when she saw the hope in his expression and reminded herself there was no harm that could be derived from this knowledge.

“I adore the novelization of _The Cat That Came From Outer Space_ , even if it’s based on a crappy eighties movie.”

Doyle smiled and grabbed a hardcover copy of that very novel from his bookshelf. They began to discuss the novelization at length even though their reasons for liking the book differed.

“After so many years, you still manage to surprise me,” he remarked after, all the tension gone from the room and both their hands loosely gripping the wine glasses.

“I hardly knew much about my other business rivals’ personal lives.”

“True,” Doyle admitted, and neither one of them voiced the fact that they were no longer rivals, but the thought blared in both their minds.

“I know it may not be worth much at this point,” Doyle added after they both stayed quiet for a moment. “But I really am sorry for letting everyone down. You and the team deserved better, and I will try to do better next time.”

“Good,” Kimball managed to get out. “Because we fucking deserve to win for once.”

He smiled at that and after all the conversation and tears, she could feel the smallest grains of trust tickling her throat. She wanted to crush them underfoot before they had a single chance to bloom into something more. Trust, after all, only made the inevitable disappointment hurt more, and she had experienced enough hurt to last her a lifetime.

Yet she couldn’t destroy the terrifying sentiment after all that had happened that evening. Instead his apology rung in her mind alongside all that the children had said, and the common ground they managed to discover that evening refused to be ignored.

Kimball’s gaze went back to the laptop sitting on the coffee table, memory of Doyle’s words about the project surfacing within seconds. She remembered his tears and Delta’s words about encouragement. She remembered her own frustrations over projects that weren’t going anywhere and bosses who were never fully satisfied.

She remembered Katie and Andersmith’s recent questions about her own well-being, concerned glances going to her as she refused to take the chance of relying on anyone else and tried to do everything on her own.

“What if I looked at it?” Kimball suggested suddenly.

She gestured toward the laptop as she made herself remember all the times throughout the years Doyle had done something deserving of her respect, and had shown he was not in fact a _bad_ person. “The project, I mean. After all, you know my bosses were always saying I was _too_ bold, and I’m not any kind of business threat anymore.”

“You–” He stopped and cleared his throat. “You would do that?”

He stared at her with wide, watery eyes, and she took a second to adjust to all of the turns the night and their conversation had taken. In the pause, she was reminded of the few silent moments of mutual understanding they managed to obtain in all the years of business, and her traitorous brain whispered those moments had occurred even more recently despite how much they fought in water polo.

“If you stop stonewalling all of my ideas, then yes.” Kimball returned to the couch but turned to look at him as she added, “I don’t want to give the kids any more bad news, and you getting fired would count for them.”

“If you will actually consider my ideas and their potential merit, then I can do the same for yours,” Doyle replied, and joined her on the couch.

They both placed their wine glasses down on the coffee table before Doyle opened up his laptop. He began opening all of the relevant emails and PDFs, and in that brief silence, they could both feel a sense of camaraderie all their past business projects and newer water polo strategies lacked.  

Then Doyle started to explain the project, and Kimball leaned forward to read the information, brisk air of business returning to both of them though the wine and personal setting tempered it.

They argued of course, for no truce or positive memories could prevent them from being themselves and the inevitable clashes it caused. Both of them approached the common goal from different angles as they always had, and they spend half of the time arguing as the night hours tick by.

But the venom that had been in their voices burning the other’s skin all the other times they’ve argued was lacking. Doyle still dragged his feet at all the bolder changes she wanted to put in, but she made herself listen and understand some of his points had merit.

Empathy, after all, was what both Andersmith and Katie always told the kids they should constantly be using, and Kimball was supposed to be setting the example for them no matter how tempted she was to dump the bottle of wine over Doyle’s head at some of his comments.

And besides, she thought when she finally left for the night, she knew how to be bold enough for the both of them.

***

 

**Wednesday, February 28 th, 81 Days After Epsilon’s Death  **

The children had just finished their after school snack and were arguing over what to do next while Vanessa cleared away the table. After input from Katie and Andersmith, they finally decided on playing Twister in the living room despite Omega’s protests that such a game was childish and stupid. They ignored him and all tromped to the other room with Katie while Andersmith stayed behind to speak with Vanessa.

Only five minutes into the game the doorbell rang. Vanessa went to answer the door with a smile while the children all shrieked at Delta to hurry and pick the next move.

“You have visitors, kids,” Vanessa called, and everyone looked up from their ridiculous positions interlocked with each other’s bodies.

“Oh man, save a spot for me, D!” York said with a grin when he walked through the living room doorway and into sight of the children.

The spinner Delta held clattered to the ground as he rushed forward to give York a massive hug. York looked slightly taken aback, but he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Delta’s small frame. Carolina and North appeared at York’s sides a second later, and Theta’s eager shout filled the air. The mass of children all collapsed to the ground with a shriek as Iota and Eta tore away from the group to launch themselves at Carolina. Theta was quick to squirm out of the pile of bodies and get to North’s side while Omega swore at all of them.

“Now now, Omega,” Carolina said, and all the lifeguards smiled at the remaining children while Omega glared. “There’s no need to be jealous.”

Before Omega could protest angrily, Tex and Wyoming stepped into view and both Omega and Gamma’s jaws dropped.

“Reggie!” Gamma shouted, and Katie helped him to his feet so he could go greet Wyoming.

“Having a bit of trouble there, kiddo?” Tex asked with a slight smirk as she made her way to Omega who remained lying on his stomach.

“This game’s stupid,” he said with a scowl, though the anger constantly dancing in his eyes faded a little when he looked up at her.

“Nobody likes a sore loser.”

“Why don’t you do it then? I bet I could beat you at least.”

“Oh really?” Tex asked, a full grin lighting up her face. Omega scrambled to his feet and jutted his chin out at her, but there was the beginnings of a smile on his face as well.

“Hell yeah!”

“We could all play,” Katie suggested from where she stood with a hand on the silent Sigma’s shoulder.

He was the only one they had told about the lifeguards’ surprise visit since Maine wouldn’t be able to come and they didn’t want to have that hope built and then crushed. Sigma had simply shrugged and said it was fine since he had been talking with Maine on Skype after Vanessa asked the lifeguards about establishing contact between Sigma and Maine while the lifeguard was out of the country. 

“I’m in,” North said, Theta clutching one of his hands.

“I can spin,” Vanessa said from where she appeared in the doorway after locking the front door once more.

All the lifeguards made their agreement known when the children all proclaimed it to be a spectacular idea. Vanessa took a seat on one of the couches with the spinner in her hand, pushing aside a few of the blankets that dangled off it. The others all positioned themselves as Vanessa called out the first position.

It was the most ridiculous game of Twister York had ever played, only beaten by the time all the lifeguards played a match at the height of their drunkenness and South began making up positions that no one realized were fake until half an hour later.

After the game, the children broke off into smaller groups with their swimming instructors while Sigma followed Vanessa and Andersmith out to the front driveway to gather snow for snow forts.

“Ms. Kimball said only a few of you would be able to come at once,” Omega said once he and Tex had settled at the dining room table where he wanted to show her some of the new graphic novels he’d bought.

“Yeah, don’t get used to this, all the other times it will be a couple of us per week.” Tex leaned back in her chair, and studied the grotesque zombie drawing. “But it’s spring break for all the university kids. So I called in a few favours and got the other city lifeguards who were off classes this week to guard our pool for the night.”

“Isn’t that a lot of lifeguards?”

“A lot of people owe me.”

Omega looked impressed by that, and she tapped the picture for an explanation. He immediately straightened his shoulders and started explaining the entire premise and backstory of every character to her. She listened attentively despite having only seen clips of the show version when it was on television.

“So how’s everything been here?” Tex finally asked after Omega read a few more pages of the graphic novel. He didn’t look up at her.

“S’fine. Theta’s going to some therapist now and Gamma might start soon.”

“I’m guessing you don’t like the idea,” Tex commented at Omega’s derisive tone. He glanced up at her and snorted. He shoved at the table harder than necessary and then stretched his arms above his head.

“It’s stupid,” Omega declared when he lowered his arms to rest on the table. “Why the hell would I want talk to some stranger about this?”

“Yeah that’s–”

“I might as well just talk to _you_ about it.” Tex went still and stared at Omega. He glanced at her and then seemed to realize what he had just said as his eyes widened dramatically. “That’s–I mean, if I _wanted_ to talk about it–not saying that I do but just, y’know, if I did it wouldn’t be some random asshole.”

“Right,” Tex said, and Omega’s stiff shoulders slowly relaxed when she didn’t press the matter.

He returned to reading, occasionally pointing out how cool a picture looked. Tex watched him in his rare moment of perfect concentration, the fantasy story smoothing away the lines of anger that usually creased his face and easing his volatile body into stillness. She could hear the chatter of the other children in the other rooms of the house, but let the contented quiet of that room envelop her in its comfort for one moment.

“Well, if you did want to talk about it, it wouldn’t have to be with a random asshole,” Tex finally said awhile later. Neither one of them looked away from Omega’s graphic novel, but she thought she saw something like relief flicker in Omega’s expression.

In the basement where they sat safe within the walls of their fort surrounded by Lego pieces, Carolina asked Iota and Eta the same question Tex had asked Omega about how everything was at Vanessa’s home.

“Oh, Ms. Kimball and Mr. Doyle got in a fight yesterday!” Iota said, perking up with the news.

Eta lay on her stomach beside her twin and Carolina blinked from where she sat across from them. A flashlight dangled from the rafters of the basement to give some light to the inside of the fort, and Carolina tried to stay as small as possible to keep from brushing against the delicate blankets that formed the walls of the children’s fort.

“We weren’t allowed to go inside the pool building cuz she was really mad at him,” Eta explained, frowning at the Lego house in her hands. She carefully removed one of the pieces and replaced it with a black block with a satisfied nod.

“We wanted to go watch them play water polo,” Iota said. “But they lost before we got there and Ms. Kimball told us we had to stay in the car and then she went inside and shouted at Mr. Doyle.”

Carolina had known about the yelling part, for Tex had included the incident in her report and claimed the shouting was so bad she threatened to call the police if they didn’t stop.

“But Ms. Kimball said she talked to him and everything’s okay now,” Iota told her. She sat on her knees, body swaying toward Carolina eagerly as she told her story. “She promised everything would be okay and they would have a practice after school that we could go to cuz we didn’t get to see the game.”

“And Ms. Kimball’s helping him with a work project now,” Eta added.

She handed her twin the building she had been working on it, and Iota only studied it for a few seconds before replacing the roof quickly. She gave the new home back to Eta who placed it in the pile of all their finished buildings while Carolina watched, wondering just how many questions Eta had bombarded Vanessa with that day regarding the incident with Doyle.

The twins moved onto a new topic seconds later, though, and Carolina allowed herself to be carried along as she helped them build a Lego town beneath a soft light and freshly laundered blankets.

“Did you tell Carolina you love her?” Delta asked from where he and York sat on the living room floor playing checkers.

Gamma had moved with Wyoming to the upstairs hallway to show him a game on his DS, but Theta and North still sat on one of the living room couches. Theta was showing North a drawing of the dog from his therapy that he’d done, but York heard North turn a laugh into a fake cough at Delta’s question.

“Say it a little louder, D, I don’t think she heard you,” York said, but immediately regretted his sarcastic tone when confused guilt filled Delta’s expression. He reached out to move one of his pieces, and then squeezed Delta’s shoulder. “Sorry, that was mean of me. You still remember that, huh?”

“You guys still do that special smile at each other,” Delta replied as he conquered one of York’s pieces.

Behind them, York could hear North half-laughing, half-coughing even harder as Theta asked if he was alright. When North suggested they go get a glass of water, York twisted around to give the grinning North a glare before the two disappeared from the room.

“No, Delta,” York finally said. “I haven’t told her that.”

“Why not?”

“Well, there were some recent complications,” York said slowly, thinking about how angry Carolina had been that past Saturday.

To be fair, she calmed down quicker than York expected after all of them explained everything, though he couldn’t tell if having the majority of the lifeguards on their side made her angrier or more understanding. She also hadn’t killed any of them, even if the looks she sent her cousin promised violence on the car ride home.

But even if she had started speaking to him again, he wasn’t sure if he was forgiven enough to try anything more than friendship.

“Like what?” Delta pressed, and York offered him a smile.

“Everyone made her pretty mad.”

“She doesn’t seem mad now.”

“Yeah well, I think she understands our point of view now. And she’s with Iota and Eta–she’s not gonna get mad at them.”

“Oh.” Delta frowned down at the checker board before glancing up at York again. York found himself riveted by the solemn look in the green eyes of someone so young. “Well I think you should tell her soon, before something bad happens.”

York’s throat tightened and when Delta just kept staring at him, York reached out a hand to clasp Delta’s shoulder.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll–I’ll think about it, okay, D?” He offered the boy the brightest smile he could manage. “It’s good advice.”

Delta nodded but York didn’t let him go right away. “You doing okay?”

Delta’s shoulders slouched a little but he smiled back at York.

“Yes,” he said softly. “Thank you, York.”

Time passed, and eventually Vanessa came back in to suggest everyone get some fresh air and build snow forts together. Everyone except for Gamma eagerly latched onto the idea, and the lifeguards helped all of them sculpt suitable homes using the snow in Vanessa’s backyard and the piles Sigma had brought from the front yard. It didn’t take long for a vicious snowball fight to get started, the children shrieking as they hurled snow at each other and the adults. All of the babysitters including Vanessa got just as involved as the rest of them, Vanessa letting the twins tackle her to the crowd as their war cries split the cold air.

Carolina got snow down her back and clumped in her hair, but she got off more shots at the lifeguards than anyone else. She laughed when she got a particularly good shot at York, cheeks red and grin lighting up her face as her breath puffed out in front of her. York grinned back at her and whispered something to Delta quickly before another snowball pegged York in the chest. Then the twins were launching themselves at Delta and claiming the two’s fort for their own.

“Give up yet?” Carolina asked York where he lay in the snow panting up at her.

“Have a little faith, Carolina,” York said but didn’t make any move to sit up. “D and I got this.”

“I don’t really see how we can win,” Delta said from where Iota hung off his neck and Eta giggled beside her.

“Oh yeah? Well what if I did _this_.”

He shot at Carolina’s legs, knocking her to the ground only to receive a handful of snow to his face. He gasped and then started to crawl away only to have Eta jumped onto his back. His face went into the snow with a grunt as Carolina laughed again at him once more. She had mostly forgiven all of the lifeguards for going behind her back, but seeing them get doused in snow was certainly making her feel even better about the whole mess.

The twins and Delta’s parents were the first to arrive to pick up their children that night. They showed up long after everyone had retreated back inside Vanessa’s house to get hot drinks and bundle up in blankets as they tried to ignore the damp fringes of their clothes. When those three went home, Carolina and York spoke to Vanessa briefly about the next time they should come visit the kids before leaving the house together.

Carolina’s car was in the shop for repairs so she walked down the streets with York toward the bus stop. Snow had fallen when they were building the forts, but it had stopped by the time they were walking so the night remained quiet and still around them.

“So how long till you find out your test results?” York asked as they ambled down the sidewalks.

Both of them kept their gloved hands in the pockets of their jackets, moving in and out of the pools of light cast by the streetlights above them.

“A couple weeks,” Carolina said. York had texted her as soon as she finished her test, asking her if she thought she did okay. None of the questions had taken her by surprise or stumped her, so she took that as a good sign.

She glanced at York as he nodded and hunched a little against the cold air. His cheeks were turning red again from the cold and he had forgotten both a hat and hood. Whenever they passed beneath a streetlight, the red skin of his scar over his eye seemed to gleam. Patches of his jacket and jeans remained soaked from the snowball fight despite the time spent drying off in Vanessa’s house. The snow that melted in his hair had left damp strands plastered to his temples and he would need to take scissors to the tangled mess soon.

He was a mess in general, and she would cut off the hand of anyone who tried touching him.

“You know when Wash went to see Tucker after he nearly drowned, Church was being a massive baby,” Carolina suddenly said.

She didn’t look at York, but she saw him glance at her out of the corner of her eye. “Was complaining he didn’t want to hear them if they started having sex. I told him he should just go see Tex and he told me I should go kiss my boyfriend.”

“What boyfriend?” Carolina felt relief relax her shoulders at the alarm in York’s voice. “Did you get a boyfriend without telling your beloved staff?”

“He was referring to you,” Carolina said, instead of making a jab about what they had been keeping from her. That would just bring up anger and guilt and protestations, and after all the shit that had happened recently and all that they still needed to get through, she just wanted something that she knew would make her happy.

“Oh?” York asked, and he stopped walking when she did. “Well that’s obviously inaccu–”

“I told him I would,” Carolina cut him off, and turned to face him.

York’s mouth fell open and then snapped shut in the time it took her to blink. His eyes widened at her and the whole world fell still around them for a single second.

“That’s–” Carolina felt laughter bubble in her chest when York continued to fumble with his words as she took a step toward him. “Okay, I’ll be honest, I’m gonna need a little more than that.”

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Carolina asked instead of explaining further.

 “ _Yes,_ ” York replied instantly, and then seemed to realize how desperate he had sounded. “Uh, I mean, can I get a do-over please?”

“I don’t think that would help.”

“Hey, I know some great–”

“York.” She took a step closer and grinned at him. “You are _not_ suave.”

They were both smiling when she closed the distance between them to kiss him.

***

**Tuesday, March 6 th, 87 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

Despite everything else that had been happening in their lives, the Reds and Blues continued to win the occasional water polo game. Occasional being the operative word, as lacking Wash’s leadership had affected them more than any of them wanted to admit. On top of that, Grif and Simmons still weren’t back to their normal relationship, only speaking directly to each other when snapping at the other in a way that was meant to draw blood. Their strange fight had started to affect their ability to play as a unit during water polo too, which in turn affected the entire team’s overall effectiveness.

 _Grif won’t say anything_ , Kai texted Tucker back when he asked her if she knew what was up with them.  

Even having witnessed the fight in the café, Tucker was surprised the two hadn’t made up like they usually did. None of the other Reds seemed to have any clue either, and both Grif and Simmons just snapped at Tucker to mind his own business when he asked them.

Not that any of them were lacking other tasks to keep them occupied. With Carolina and Wash’s additional help, they were making more progress finding evidence against the Director than ever before. Carolina knew where her father kept all his paper copies of important documents and since she still lived at his home, she had more time and opportunities to get them access to his laptop. Church created a Trojanto get access to the Director’s bank account, and just the other night he burst into Tucker’s room and shoved his laptop into Tucker’s lap to show him the evidence of extortion he found.

They were still lacking evidence when it came to the sabotage at the pool, though Carolina could now vouch for them that the slide had been perfectly intact when she did her check the day before York got injured.

That Tuesday night they were all at Maine’s house discussing their findings and what their next step should be. Tucker came to the house after his night class ended at nine, and the interior appeared much as it had during the staff parties. Mattresses were shoved into the corners of the main room with one placed in front of the television by the coffee table. That time the patio doors were firmly closed with curtains drawn across them due to the winter weather outside. The sheer amount of noises and body heat spilling from all the people crammed into the main room made Tucker momentarily forget the cold outside.

The second Tucker walked through the door, Wash pressed closer to Connie on the couch in order to open up a spot for Tucker. Tucker slid into the space with a smile for Wash, and the lifeguard gave a small one back. Since Tucker’s near drowning and Wash had gotten involved with their investigation, the two were slowly regaining the relationship they had before Epsilon died.

In many ways Wash was quieter and harder than he had been before, and everyone reported he remained more closed off to them than they were used to. But he was talking to all of them again, and he didn’t keep himself locked away and devoid of human companionship in his own home. Tucker had already seen him more times in the past two weeksthan he had in the past three months, so that was a start at least.

On top of that, he was now seeing a school therapist and said he liked her well enough. It would take time before they could tell if the visits were producing legitimate and beneficial results, but Wash not hating the visits was a start.

“We ordered Chinese,” Connie told Tucker, leaning across Wash’s lap. “Left-overs in the kitchen.”  

“You wanna grab me a plate, Church?” Tucker asked his roommate where he and Simmons knelt over his laptop resting on the coffee table.

“Get it yourself, asshole,” Church snapped without even looking up from the laptop screen.

“The honey chicken’s mine,” South told Tucker as he climbed to his feet.

She, Kai, and North perched on the other couch placed around the coffee table, sitting directly across from where Church knelt around the table. Carolina and York were on a mattress shoved in front of the television and opposite the couch Tucker sat on. Another laptop rested on Carolina’s outstretched legs and her gaze stayed on the laptop as she scrolled with her right hand.

Her left hand lay clasped in York’s while the man grinned. Tucker was pretty sure it had taken less than twenty-four hours for all of the lifeguards to learn the two had agreed to start dating. Then it took an hour for Wash to text Tucker about it, and less than ten minutes for Tucker to message all the Reds and Blues.

The rest of the Reds and Blues themselves were scattered around the coffee table and throughout the house. Caboose sat by Church with a juice box in hand while Church kept telling him to be quiet. Grif could be heard talking with Sheila and Donut in the kitchen. Lopez sat on the floor between Kai’s couch and Carolina’s mattress with his usual disgruntled expression, and Sarge had disappeared upstairs to use the bathroom.

“You can’t claim all the honey chicken for yourself, South,” North told her as Tucker made his way to kitchen.

“I just fucking did.” She raised her voice when Tucker reached the doorway. “Shortie, tell fatty I’ll rip out his spleen if he touches my food. Same to you.”

Tucker didn’t even bother to respond, just rolled his eyes as he inched his way past Grif to get to the fridge. Once his plate was piled high with Chinese food, Tucker stuffed a chicken ball in his mouth, grabbed a can of pop, and headed back to his spot beside Wash.

The others in the kitchen followed him out after some shouting from Church, and all took a seat on the floor by Kai and her couch. Sarge had already rejoined them, the only two missing at that point being Tex and Maine. Maine would be back in the country next week, and Tex was heading over after her shift ended at the pool.

“Fucking midterms,” South said when Tucker asked her why she wasn’t working the night shift with Tex like usual.  

While waiting for the last arrival, they all gave each other updates on their progress as Tucker ate and Wash commented on the possibility of choking given the rate he inhaled the rice.

Tex arrived a little after ten, minutes after Tucker finished the last of his food and placed the messy plate in the kitchen garbage. Instead of heading straight to a spot or greeting one of the lifeguards like Tucker expected, she paused only a step within the house while the door slammed shut on the night behind her. Her gaze skipped over all of them until it landed on Wash.

“Wash,” she said, and everyone turned to look at her. All of them fell quiet at the somber expression on her face. “Epsilon’s mom came to the pool and dropped this off. She found it in his stuff and it’s labelled with your name.”

Tex held out the brown envelope she had been holding at her side and Tucker felt Wash stiffen beside him the second Epsilon’s name pierced the air. When Wash didn’t move or say anything, Tex crossed the room to him and placed the object in his lap.

“Tex,” Connie hissed at her, but she just stood there.

Tucker glanced at Wash’s frozen expression, and noted the way his breathing went only a little faster than normal. Seconds ticked by in silence, nobody daring to either admonish Tex outright or try to grab Wash’s attention as if scared they would shatter with a single harsh word.

When Wash finally moved again, he raised shaking hands from where they rested on the couch to grab theenvelope.Without looking at any of them, he lifted the object and let out a shaky breath.

“I think it’s photos,” Tex said quietly. “She would have brought it sooner but they couldn’t bring themselves to go through Epsilon’s stuff until recently.”

Wash didn’t remove his gaze from the envelope or the little sticky note with his name written on it, but Tucker looked up at Tex briefly. The expression on her face made him think she had received a similar gift from Epsilon’s mother, and he wondered how many photos she had looked at before violently shoving the items inside her jacket and driving over.

“He never said he took any photos for me,” Wash croaked out, and Connie gave his forearm a squeeze.

Tex just shrugged in response and then glanced briefly at the silent Church. Without another word, Church got to his feet and moved to stand by her side. He wrapped an arm around her waist, fingers curling around her hip as they both stared down at the unopened envelopein Wash’s hands.

“Do you wanna be alone for a bit?” Tucker asked Wash.

“You can go chill in my room for a bit if you want,” North offered, and the others all nodded.

“No, it’s fine,” Wash replied, still not looking up at any of them. Tucker pressed closer to his side as a gesture of reassurance, having gotten confirmation from Wash last week that such actions were acceptable. 

Without speaking, Wash slowly ripped open the package. He paused for a few quiet seconds and then carefully tipped out the contents. Just as Tex guessed, photos spilled out and into his lap. The backs of them that Tucker could see were all labelled with dates and times, as well as tiny notes he had to squint to read.

Wash flipped over one of them with a small frown, and then went still at whatever he saw. Tucker leaned over his shoulder and Connie did the same on his other side.

“Holy fuck,” she breathed, and that had Church and Tex moving closer to see. 

“What is it?” Carolina asked, and Tucker felt his own lips tug down.

The photo captured the profile of a man as he turned away from the camera. His face remained mostly hidden from view, but the photo displayed his physical build and the clothes he wore. Tucker’s gaze moved further down the picture and snagged on the orange blur on the left side.

“Is that a fire?” Tucker blurted, and that caused everyone else to shift impatiently in their seats.

“It’s the Counsellor,” Connie whispered in awe. “He got a picture of the Counsellor setting the fire!”

Wash offered the photo to Tex with a shaking hand, and all the lifeguards got to their feet to crowd around her so they could look.

“Oh holy shit,” York said, and North’s mouth dropped a little.

“Are you guys sure?” Church asked, glancing at the confused Tucker.

“Maybe somebody who didn’t know him as well as us wouldn’t recognize him,” South replied. “But we’ve worked with that fucker for months now–that’s definitely him.”

She turned toward Wash. “What are the other photos of?”

Wash started to go through all of them slowly while the others examined them. Many were pictures of the Counsellor and the Director simply around town, making them all realize Epsilon had been following the two around town without anyone realizing.

“Probably started after the fire,” Tex said, still standing in front of Wash with Church. “I saw him snooping in the Director’s office after it happened–he must have gotten suspicious and wanted to see if he could find anything else.”

“But.” Wash looked up at her, and Tucker’s breath caught in his throat at the confused hurt in Wash’s face. “He never said anything about any of it. Why wouldn’t he have told one of us, tried to get help?”

“He was a kid, Wash,” Tucker said gently before anyone else could reply.

Wash looked at him, and Tucker spotted the desperation in his wide eyes that he tried to hide. Tucker kept his voice calm despite the smallness of Wash’s. “He was probably scared nobody would believe him. Even if he liked you guys, if he already wasn’t the sharing type, then he might not have believed you would side with him over your boss.”

Even Junior hid things from Tucker when he feared they would make Tucker mad or he might not believe him, that fear perhaps made even stronger because of the overwhelming love the two possessed for each other.

“But hey,” Tucker continued. “If he labelled all this stuff with your name, then he was probably planning on telling you as soon as he thought he had enough evidence.”

Wash kept staring at him and Tucker refused to look away. He wished there was something more he could say to ease the pain the most recent development inflicted on Wash. Instead he sat there and tried to mold himself into a pillar Wash could rely on, letting all of his sympathy and adoration for Wash seep into his gaze and facial expression. Wash’s shoulders slumped a few seconds later, and Connie gripped his shoulder while offering Tucker a grateful look.

“Oi, check this out, Carolina,” South suddenly said, snatching one of the photos out of Wash’s lap. She twisted to Carolina who took a step closer to study the object over her shoulder. York remained at her side, hand clasped in hers.

“It’s them,” Carolina said, voice going harsh with the announcement.

Her green eyes were wide and angry in her pale face, and Tucker saw Church shift in her direction. Church didn’t tell Tucker much about the conversation they had with Carolina or her subsequent agreement to help, but he did say the cousins had an extended one-on-one conversation about the whole thing after heading back home. He wouldn’t tell Tucker what was said specifically, or Carolina’s feelings beyond agreeing to help them, but Tucker could easily guess she was experiencing a lot more inner turmoil than she let on.

“Mind explaining to the rest of us?” Sarge said from his spot by Simmons, gesturing at the Reds and Blues who stayed silent and confused up until that point.

“It’s the assholes who attacked Carolina at the pool,” South clarified.

Church, York, and North’s faces tightened at that, and York pressed even closer to Carolina. For their part, neither South nor Carolina appeared bothered by the memory, instead glancing up at each other as South offered Carolina a vicious grin. “Looks like you’ll get a chance to get revenge on those fuckers after all.”

“I thought you two said you didn’t get a good look at them,” Grif said from where he leaned back on his elbows on the floor by his sister’s legs.

“We didn’t really,” Carolina said.

“But they look like the little glimpse we did get,” South added. She jabbed her finger at the photo. “And look, they’ve got the piercings I did catch a glimpse of.”

“So Epsilon somehow got a pic of the same assholes who attacked you?” Tucker asked in confusion, and tried not to let his breath hitch when Wash leaned into him a little.

“Even better.” Carolina turned the photo so they could see it. “He got a picture of the Counsellor speaking with the assholes.”

Sure enough, the Counsellor stood outside an empty café with his mouth open and hands gesturing toward three young men. Tex took the photo as Carolina turned her attention on her cousin. “You said you found an email about that night?”

“Yeah,” Church replied. “The content in it is purposefully vague but it matches the date and confirms everything is good for that night.”

“If I show that photo around, I can guarantee I’ll find someone who knows about them,” South told them.

“Tex, take a look at this one,” Connie said quietly.

She picked it up after a glance at Wash, but he seemed lost in his own thoughts at that point, staring down blankly at the remaining pictures. There was a pile of photos paper-clipped together that appeared to be ones unconnected to the evidence contained within the rest of the scattered photos, but Wash didn’t touch them yet. He didn’t say anything when Tex took the photo Connie held and inhaled sharply.

“It’s Epsilon’s information sheet,” she said, and that had awareness creeping back over Wash’s face. “The one from the start of the session.”

“What–” Simmons began, but Tex pointed a finger at him and cut him off.

“Pull up those documents of the private lessons.”

Everyone looked back and forth between the two as Simmons pulled the laptop Church had been working on closer to him and completed Tex’s request. “What does it say beside Epsilon’s health concerns?”

“Epilepsy,” Simmons said instantly, and Wash stiffened.

“It wasn’t there,” he got out through gritted teeth, and Tex smiled at him.

“I know. And now we have proof.”

She showed the photo to Wash and Tucker looked over his shoulder at it. The photo was a screenshot of a sheet filled with information about Epsilon and his enrollment in swimming lessons. Both of them honed in on the bolded words “health concerns” and then moved their gaze to read the words beside the colon, but only a blank space rested there.

“There aren’t any on this one,” Tucker said, loud enough for everyone to hear while Wash kept staring at the photo.

“And Epsilon’s put a date on all of the pictures,” Tex said. “This one was taken weeks before his death.”

“Looks like he took ones for all the kids Vanessa babysits,” Connie added, picking up the relevant photos.

“So what you’re saying,” Wash cut in, his voice surprisingly neutral despite the way his hands shook in his lap, “is that at this point, we actually have enough proof to get the Director arrested.”

Everyone looked around the room at each other, realization and eager optimism dawning on most of their faces.

“We’ve got a lot of incriminating emails at this point,” Simmons said.

“And definitely some shady conversations recorded thanks to our amazing spy work,” Grif added, and Kai high-fived him and Sheila.

“The police reports and what Church found in the internet history seem like pretty good proof that the gas leak was intentional,” North told them.

“Give me another day and I’ll have all we need for the financial shit,” Church said, confidence straightening his shoulders.

“Same goes for finding those assholes and just how many others the Counsellor has talked to,” South said.

“And now we have photos proving he and the Counsellor were behind a lot of the incidents,” Tex finished.

“Sounds pretty good to me,” Tucker said with a grin.

The glee on everyone’s faces was contagious, and Tucker felt relief spreading to every nerve end in his body at the thought that they were days away from winning.

“About that.”

Everyone turned to look at York, his heavy voice staining the energy that filled every corner of the room. He glanced once at Carolina who seemed just as confused as the rest of them by the interruption, and then spoke again. “I think it might be better if we _don’t_ get the Director arrested.”

Loud protestations deafened him in response and he raised his hands in defense. Carolina and Tex stayed quiet, but Tucker could see both of them tensing their bodies as if for a fight. “I’m not saying just let shit continue as it is. I think we could get him to quit if we told him everything we had, and then not go to the police.”

“Blackmail him,” Tex said, pursing her lips but not dismissing the idea outright. York nodded and Church glared at him.

“Exactly.”

“That’s bullshit,” Church cut in angrily. “He deserves to rot in jail for everything he’s done.”

“Church,” Carolina said quietly, and Church whirled on his cousin even as Tucker saw some of the rage fade.

“Sure, but you guys don’t deserve to suffer any more than you have for his fuck-ups,” York said before Church could say anything more.

Both cousins narrowed their eyes at him but understanding lit up both Connie and Tex’s expressions. Tucker just frowned at the lifeguard and South rolled her eyes behind York while North shot his friend a sympathetic expression. The Reds and Blues continued to look as confused by the situation as Tucker felt.  

“York,” Carolina said, and he explained quickly at the note of warning in her voice.

“Think about it, Carolina. You’ve told all of us that part of the application process for the RCMP is a really extensive background check and security clearance. And maybe they would focus only on your criminal record, but something tells me they’re gonna look at your family too, and they’re not gonna be happy if they learn your father has been accused of extortion and sabotage with the intent to cause harm, along with a whole other shitload of things.”

“He has a point,” Connie said into the ensuing silence, and most of the others nodded.

“And how exactly am I supposed to be a RCMP officer if I _don’t_ bring something like this to the attention of the legal system?” Carolina questioned through clenched teeth. “This is exactly the kind of thing they would expect me to deal with if I became an officer.”

“Because he won’t be able to hurt anyone anymore,” York told her.

They had let go of each other’s hands, facing off with only inches between them. Carolina crossed her arms tightly over her chest but York let his hands dangle in front of him and kept his body posture loose in a sign of placation.“And you’ll be able to save and protect so many more people as an officer, just like they’re supposed to. But you won’t be able to do that if they decide his arrest is a mark against you. Hell, even if he’s not arrested, the accusation and trial might be enough for them to think twice about recruiting you.”

“You can’t let your parents ruin the future you want for yourself,” Grif said quietly, and everyone glanced toward the Hawaiian man in surprise.

Kai reached over to grip his hand and when Tucker snuck a look at Simmons, the redhead stared across the room at the other man with red cheeks and a helpless adoration that hurt to look at.

“And what about making him pay for what he’s done?” Church demanded, though the earlier volatile fury had faded.

“Something tells me not having his previous power and being found out by both of you will end up being a bigger punishment than we think,” Tex said quietly, glancing between the two cousins.

“Oh yes, people are very sad when they do not get an invitation from their family,” Caboose said across the room. Tucker rolled his eyes, but Church seemed to be considering the words seriously.

“I think it’s worth considering,” Wash spoke up from beside Tucker, and Carolina’s shocked gaze jerked to him.

“Wash?” They stared at each other, and Wash’s hands tightened around one of the photos in his lap.

“I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of him,” Wash finally said, and they all heard the honesty in the rawness of his voice. “And a trial–there’s always the possibility he’d get off and we’d probably all have to get up on the witness stand.”

Nobody needed him to say he wasn’t sure if he could keep his composure in that situation after everything that happened, and they could all imagine how difficult it might be for Carolina to stand in that position.

“Not to mention long as hell,” South added before returning to her seat on the mattress beside Kai.

“As long as we act confident enough and make him think we’ll take everything to the police as soon as he refuses, he should listen to us,” North interjected.

“Plus, you’ve already taken the RCMP exam,” York said. “You’ll get in soon and then his whole motive for doing all this crap will be gone.” 

Carolina’s expression grew tighter with each new sentence, but she didn’t outright snap at all of them or storm off. York kept a pleading gaze on her the whole time and Tex continued to hold herself still with barely contained tension pulling at all her muscles. Tucker glanced at his roommate, but Church didn’t look away from his cousin. The rage seemed to be trickling away and soaking into the floor at his feet the more that was said, and he suddenly leaned heavily against Tex. She accepted the weight without a word, and both Connie and Tucker did the same for Wash, exhaustion pressing down on all of them.

“Sounds to me like everyone here isjust trying to look out for their own,” Sarge said.

Tucker hadn’t noticed the man leave the room, but there was now a half-empty Yoohoo on the coffee table by his elbow that hadn’t been there when the first of the photos were being examined. Carolina whirled on him at that, but the older man just met her glare with a calm look Tucker rarely saw on the man. It was the kind of composure Tucker hoped he could one day obtain as a father; the perfect balance of understanding, admonishment,and a dash of unconditional affection.

It might not have worked as well as it did on Junior when he was upset, but some of the fight seemed to drain from Carolina. At the very least, she didn’t tell the older man to fuck off, just held his gaze for a long moment. “Nothing wrong with accepting a little help when you’re covered in the sticky gunk and blood of your enemies with no ammo left in your shotgun.”

Tucker wrinkled his nose at the disgusting mental image, and Grif groaned from across the room. Wash shook his head beside Tucker but Connie grinned at the older man’s words.

“Thanks, Sarge,” Church said sarcastically while Carolina stayed quiet. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind for the next time I find myself in trouble.”

“Don’t make me bludgeon you for your insubordination, Blue. These drink containers pack a punch like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Please, Carolina.” York’s quiet plea interrupted the argument and drew everyone’s attention back to the serious discussion at hand. Carolina slowly returned her gaze to her boyfriend, and the room seemed to hold its breath. “We just want you to be okay.”

“Minimize the collateral damage,” Connie muttered, and Tex nodded.

“Sorry, boss, but I think I’ve already taken that job,” Wash piped up, self-deprecating humour threaded through his voice as well as the tiniest notes of the dry tone they all missed hearing.

Tucker resisted the urge to tangle his fingers with Wash’s at that, and instead focused on reading Carolina’s expression. He couldn’t pick out all the individual emotions from the jumbled mess that lined Carolina’s face and skidded across her skin, but he noticed the moment a sad acceptance entered the fray.

“Okay,” Carolina finally said, and her voice didn’t betray any of the conflict flickering in her green eyes. “We’ll try it your way.”

York smiled at her, and Tucker heard Lopez mutter,

“ _Oh gracias a Dios, no miraba hacia adelante a esa lucha. York no habria sido la unica causalidad._ ” (“ _Oh thank god, I was not looking forward to that fight. York wouldn’t have been the only causality._ ”)

York hesitantly held a hand out to Carolina as the others all returned to their earlier seats. North elbowed his twin when she made a gagging noise as Carolina stared at the outstretched hand.

Carolina shook her head but took his hand a second later, and Tucker realized nothing could completely destroy the love she felt for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Art of Wash and Tucker's hug http://agentwashinqton.tumblr.com/post/129114106683/the-newest-chapter-of-this-ficit-killed-me-and
> 
> And art of the scene outside the hospital as well as Connie, Wash, and Tucker talking:  
> http://sicknastyphresh.tumblr.com/post/129306224182/so-the-new-of-lifeguards-and-water-polo-chapter
> 
> (*is still extremely bitter we never got to see Kimball and Doyle actually working together*)
> 
> So what happened with Tucker is one very good reason lifeguards tell you to never go swimming when you are tired, as that bit was somewhat written from my own experience of merely closing my eyes for a few seconds in the pool when I was extremely tired. (My case was not nearly as severe as Tucker's, but it can happen). For adults, the rate of compressions to breaths in CPR is 30 compressions (done with both hands) for 2 breaths. For children and infants it is the same rate, but with children you will only press down with one hand and give them less of a breath, and with an infant two fingers will be used for compresssions and the air given to them should be a puff. (The information might seem pointless, but it is a huge pet peeve of mine when CPR is portrayed incorrectly in media--looking at you, Casino Royale. Also, it is not sexy or comparable to kissing). It goes without saying that the quicker the person starts breathing again, the better their chances of recovery are; in this case, younger people do have a higher chance of recovery. 
> 
> A trip to the hospital is required so that the paramedics can be sure no permanent damage has been done, as well as pump any remaining water from the victim's lungs. Part of this is due to the danger of secondary drowning; where residue water in the lungs causes the person to die within one to 72 hours after the initial drowning. This is why lifeguards must tell anyone who experiences a near drowning (even if they don't go unconscious) to watch for flu-like symptoms within the next 72 hours and go to a doctor immediately if they suffer from them.
> 
> The friend Bitters punched someone for was Matthews.
> 
> A Trojan is a malicious computer program that misrepresents itself as something routine for the computer to convince users to download it. It then allows the author to do whatever they wish on the infected computer, and can be used to obtain the information about the computer user's payment cards and banking. 
> 
> There are now two chapters left in the story! (Getting everyone together is taking a lot more words than I originally anticipated XD ) I'm both excited and sad that we are getting so much closer to the end, but once more I want to thank you all for you support! I hope you enjoyed this monstrosity of a chapter!


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big art rec this time around!  
> Tucker and Wash reunion hug: http://agentwashinqton.tumblr.com/post/129114106683/the-newest-chapter-of-this-ficit-killed-me-and  
> Comic about Tucker and Wash talking about taking Junior to the doctor's office: http://strategos-six.tumblr.com/post/129011882050/if-theres-one-thing-i-will-never-doubt-about  
> Church and Tucker in locker rooms in first chapter: http://strategos-six.tumblr.com/post/129247161055/tucker-was-pretty-sure-he-was-going-to-spend-the  
> WIP lyric piece based off this fic: http://strategos-six.tumblr.com/post/129524571205/you-got-something-i-need-in-this-world-full-ofTermyia's  
> Tucker and Wash outside hospital + Connie, Wash, and Tucker: http://sicknastyphresh.tumblr.com/post/129306224182/so-the-new-of-lifeguards-and-water-polo-chapter
> 
> All art has also been linked in the notes of related chapters. You are guys are amazing!

**Wednesday, March 14 th, 95 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

The lifeguards wouldn’t let any of the Blues or Reds come with them when they confronted the Director. All of them were adamant about the matter, including Church who would be the only member of the water polo players entering the room.

“It’s bad enough you’re on his radar,” Church told Tucker when he tried to argue with his roommate the day before the confrontation. They were all crammed into Maine’s house once more as they made the final touches to their plan. “I don’t want you involved in any possible revenge bullshit he might pull.”

“But–”

“Leave it to us, Tucker,” Wash said quietly from where he stood by Tucker’s side. 

Tucker hated how quickly he turned to look at Wash, but he didn’t try stopping himself. Wash held himself confidently enough, but Tucker spotted the worry tangled beneath his composure. “All of you have done enough.”

Tucker agreed soon enough after that, as did the rest of the Blues. The Reds hadn’t argued hard against being in the room, though nobody blamed them for that. They were there to support their friends, but their presence in the actual room when confronting the Director wouldn’t change anything.

Not all of the lifeguards would be crowding inside the office either. The twins and York were to stay out of it, despite their loud protestations. York and North were to guard the pool and South was to attend her classes that morning as she usually did. After much swearing on her part and stubborn arguments on York’s part, they finally relented.

So when the morning finally came, the Reds and Blues headed out onto the pool deck for their water polo match. South made North swear he would call her as soon as he knew what had happened, and North and York headed into the guardroom.

Tex, Carolina, Connie, Church, and Wash all headed toward the Director’s office. Carolina made sure the Director would be there early that day, though she wouldn’t say if she said something to get him there that early or if he had simply planned to be there. She stayed silent for most of the car ride to the pool, and Church didn’t try to initiate a conversation from where he sat in the passenger seat. The others didn’t have much to say when they all gathered at the doors of the pool entrance, though Connie made sure to ask if everyone was ready. After everyone nodded and Church sent one last text message to the impatient Tucker, they all headed through the lobby and down the back hallway to the Director’s office.

Carolina entered the office first. She didn’t knock or call out a warning, she simply squared her shoulders and walked through the door. Church followed immediately behind her and the others came behind him. The Director glanced at each of them in turn when they entered, the door quietly swinging shut behind them as they all fanned out around the Director’s desk. Church stood on Carolina’s left with Tex on his right side, Wash and Connie on Tex’s other side.

“Well, to what do I owe this surprise visit?” the Director asked when his gaze fell on Connie and Wash. “Connie, David?”

“Don’t call me that,” Wash snapped, the anger Church could feel coiling in his chest showing clearly in Wash’s twisted expression.

Connie laid a hand on Wash’s shoulder as he took a step forward, and then pressed herself right against the desk to draw the Director’s attention to her. She placed the brown folder filled with their evidence on his desk and met his eyes with a look of calm that betrayed nothing of the rage she felt.

“We know you and the Counsellor have been fucking with the pool in order to test Carolina,” Connie said, and Church wondered how many times she rehearsed those lines to achieve the composure in her voice. “We know you caused the slide to break, caused the gas leak, set the fire, and had those men attack Carolina. We know you’ve been stealing funds from the pool and you didn’t properly report the health concerns of all the children Ms. Kimball babysits. All the evidence we have is in that folder, with several copies in our possession of course.”

When nobody said anything more and Connie simply continued to stare at the Director, he slowly leaned forward and grabbed the folder. He began to carefully flip through the pages upon pages of evidence they had all collected, printed, and compiled neatly in one location. His impassive expression flickered occasionally, hand pausing on several documents, but the way apathy still wreathed his body only made Church’s fury grow. 

Church’s hands curled into fists as the minutes continued to tick by and he glanced at the others. Wash seemed just as impatient as Church, shifting from foot to foot. In contrast, all the girls remained silent and still as the tension pressed down on all of them. Connie stayed standing against the desk with her gaze locked on the Director. Tex looked ready to spring into a fight at the slightest provocation, body held loosely as her bright gaze stayed alert.

Carolina held herself so stiffly Church was afraid a single touch might cause her to fall apart, and that made it even harder for Church to breathe.

“You and the Counselor are to quit immediately,” Tex said when the Director reached the end of the folder. “Or we will go to the police with this information.”

“You’re not going to them regardless?” the Director asked, looking up at Tex.

“Trust me, if it was just about you, we would,” Church snapped at him, unable to stay quiet any longer.

The Director glanced up at him before understanding dawned on his face and he finally looked toward his silent daughter. Green eyes met green eyes, and for the first time since they walked into the office, something akin to regret crossed the Director’s expression. His face drooped in sorrow, but the sight only made Church want to rage at him for daring to act like he had any right to show remorse after all that he consciously decided to put his daughter and her friends through. He wanted to shake his uncle for daring to act vulnerable now when he had tried to prey on all of their weaknesses.

“You’re pathetic,” Church said, finally incapable of keeping his words to himself as rage overwhelmed him.

Hurt bubbled beneath the anger, but it had always been far easier to focus on that resentment rather than the sentiments that only caused himself pain. The urge to scream his next few words at his uncle rose in his throat, and only the way Carolina quietly said Church’s name kept him from flinging them at the Director at the top of his lungs.

“You let the ghost of a dead woman keep you from taking care of the only family you had left and instead of helping them, you just caused everyone more grief,” Church snapped, and he hated the way his uncle’s gaze could still make him feel impossibly small.

“It’s possible one day you might understand,” the Director said, and Church nearly launched himself at his uncle when the man glanced briefly at Tex.

Tex wrapped an arm around his waist, firmly holding Church in place as he glared at his uncle. He strained against her, but she had always been infinitely stronger than him so the most he could do was bend around her as he leaned toward the Director.

“Enough, Church,” Tex said, but he kept glaring at the family member who had once meant the entire world to him.

“I might share your genetics but I will _never_ make the same mistakes as you,” Church hissed at the Director. “We are more than whatever fucked up version of your past you see us as. And our future won’t be the same as yours.”

“You will quit,” Carolina said quietly. That shut up everyone and had them all turning toward her. “You will quit the pool just as Connie and Tex told you to. You will leave everyone alone and you will leave me alone unless we decide otherwise. Is that clear?”

Nobody dared break the silence that fell between them as father and daughter saw each other more clearly than they had in years. Pain twisted Carolina’s facial expression, and the hand the Director rested on the desk trembled slightly. Yet neither one of them broke completely, Carolina towering above her father as the force of her presence pinned him to the chair.

“I understand,” the Director finally said, resignation weighing down his voice. Church’s phone chimed a second later and he quickly pulled the object from his pocket.

“And when you tell the Chairman, let him known you’ve already had some talented people show interest in working here,” Church said as he quickly scanned the text message from Tucker. “Turns out it’s really not that hard to replace you.”

If Church’s words hurt the Director, the man didn’t show it. Everyone seemed to take that as their cue to leave, Connie stepping away from his desk and tugging at Wash’s elbow. Tex slowly released Church, but tangled their fingers together a second later and began to pull him from the room. She kept part of her attention on Carolina and all of them paused in the doorway until Carolina turned to join them.

“I’ve moved out all of my stuff already,” she told her father, and then turned to join the others.

“I’m proud of you,” the Director said softly when Carolina was only a foot away from them. Church watched his cousin freeze in place as Connie nudged Wash out into the hallway. Carolina let her eyes briefly flutter shut as she took a deep breath before moving toward Tex and Church once more.

She walked out of the room with them without a single glance back.

***

**Wednesday, March 14 th, 95 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

The Reds and Blues waited in the pool while the lifeguards spoke with the Director. Technically they should have been warming up for their final seasonal game against Kimball and Doyle’s team. But half of them continuously glanced toward the Director’s office while in the pool, and the other half hadn’t bothered with any pretenses as they sat on the deck staring across the pool at the office.

Tucker and Grif were among those on the pool deck, Grif leaning against the wall while Sarge yelled at him to get into the water and Tucker paced in front of Grif. There were no lifeguards out on deck at the moment and Tucker wondered what the others would tell Wyoming and Florida. Maybe the older lifeguards wouldn’t care too much so long as their next boss was a good one, but that just made Tucker realize the pool would need to find a new manager. He wondered if they would have to close the building until a new one could be found or if a temporary one was always available.

“Hey,” Tucker said, turning to Grif and giving the man’s foot a light kick. Grif glared up at him and Caboose grabbed at the wall from in the water at the sound of Tucker’s raised voice. “Who do y’think will be the new manager?”

“How the hell should I know?” Grif asked. Sarge stopped yelling at him a few moments later, attention distracted by Donut and Simmons where they passed a ball back and forth in the water. “Whichever sucker applies.”

“You don’t think it will be one of the lifeguards?”

“The only one who’s more than a few years older than us is Florida, and he doesn’t seem like he wants to run the place.”

“True.” Tucker let his gaze roam across the pool. “Can you imagine if Tex took over?”

“My balls hurt just thinking about it.” Grif glanced over at his sister where she splashed over to Jensen and Volleyball. “Thank god she doesn’t have enough managerial experience for them to let her take over a building.”

“Yeah,” Tucker said as his gaze fell on Kimball where she spoke with Andersmith and Doyle on the pool deck by the guardroom.

It hadn’t taken long for Tucker to realize both coaches were arguing a lot less with each other, and some of the retorts directed at each other had even taken on a slight teasing tone. Asking Kai about it confirmed the two coaches were much less ready to tear the other’s throat out after they started working on another business project together, and the rest of the teams’ members were slowly starting to follow suit.

A water polo ball went whistling by Tucker’s head and smacked into the wall while Caboose called out an apology, but Tucker just blinked as a sudden idea slammed into him.

“Kimball can do it!” Tucker realized, and Grif squinted up at him.

“What?”

“Kimball can run the pool!”

Grif stared at him for a second longer and then turned to his sister.

“Kai, your teammate is going crazy again!”

“It’s a great idea,” Tucker argued as Kai started to swim over to them and the Reds looked over at Grif’s shout. “She has a shitload of business and management experience, she’s good with kids, and she knows this pool super well after all the time she’s spent here!”

“The fuck’s going on?” Kai said when she reached the pool edge. The other Reds followed suit a second later, and Sheila walked over the bulkheads from the washroom.

“I think Kimball should take over once the Director’s gone,” Tucker told her.

“Since when are you in charge of hiring for the pool?” Simmons asked at the same time Kai replied,

“Cool!”

“Well obviously I can’t actually do anything, but I can talk to her about it,” Tucker told Simmons, and then repeated the reasons he had given Grif.

“That would be a lot of people for Ms. Kimball to take care of,” Caboose said after Tucker finished, and for once, Caboose’s words triggered new awareness in Tucker.

“Oh fuck, I forgot about her kids,” Tucker said, and glanced at the empty benches where the children sometimes watched from.

“ _Cómo olvida una monstruosas manada de criaturas miniatura?_ ” ( _How do you forget a monstrous gaggle of miniature creatures?_ )

“She might be able to come in early and leave in time to get the kids,” Donut suggested as he heaved himself out of the pool.

He took a seat beside Grif in a cross-legged position as if they were in the middle of brainstorming water polo tactics. “The earlier you start, the earlier you finish!”

“Don’t encourage him,” Simmons snapped at his fellow Red.

The redhead refused to get out of the pool, though Tucker guessed that had more to do with how close that would put him to Grif than anything else. Simmons hung off the ledge of the deck in the water instead while Sarge treaded water behind him.

“While Ms. Kimball probably has money saved from her time working in business,” Sheila said, “Babysitting is not the greatest source of income for a single homeowner with vehicles and bills. She might appreciate the opportunity to have a job that provides a steadier source of income.”

“Not you too,” Simmons groaned while Grif continued to look unimpressed.

“Still sounds like a shitload of exhausting work she could get by without,” Grif said.

“Some things are worth it,” Tucker replied, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. Grif glared at him, but Tucker didn’t miss the way his friend’s gaze flickered to Simmons for the briefest of milliseconds.

“There’s no harm in asking,” Kai pointed out, and Tucker nodded.

“Exactly.”

Without another word, Tucker headed to the bulkheads. He stalked across the metal surface with his gaze fixed on Kimball and his body held confidently. She sent Palomo off just as Tucker reached her, Doyle speaking to Jensen only a few feet away. The referee was still getting ready by the equipment room, and Kimball turned to Tucker with a smile when she spotted him. They stayed only a few feet away from the bulkhead, and Tucker caught a glimpse of North and York watching the pool from inside the guardroom before he turned all his attention to Kimball.

“Good morning, Tucker,” she greeted him.

“Hey, everything good on your end?” he asked, not looking behind him even when he heard footsteps and Caboose’s loud whisper.

“Yes, we’ll be good to start whenever the ref is ready.”

“Cool.” He took a deep breath and rocked back on his heels. “So I got a somewhat hypothetical but important question for you.”

Kimball looked slightly taken aback but she simply replied,

“Ask away.”

“Would you be cool with becoming the manager of this place if the current guy quits?” Tucker asked all in one rush. “Like, the one in charge of the whole building and everything. I know you’ve got a lot of business experience and you know this place pretty well, so I figured you’d be good at it.”

“Muffin said the early bird would take care of your children,” Caboose piped up from behind Tucker. He and Kai fell into place on either side of Tucker.

“He meant if she came in early she could leave early enough to take care of them, Caboose,” Tucker told his teammate before turning his gaze back to the quiet Kimball. “We thought you might still want to take care of the kids and vice versa.”

“That would be asking Ms. Kimball to do an awful lot.”

All four of them turned at the sound of Doyle’s voice. Jensen had rejoined Palomo and Bitters in the water while Doyle moved to stand at Kimball’s side. The concern for Kimball tightening his face was a far cry from the frustration and derision Tucker witnessed when he first watched the two play against each other. The way Kimball just barely shook her head and Doyle instantly relaxed spoke of years of partnership rather than fighting.

“S’not like we’re gonna force her to do something she doesn’t want to,” Kai protested, glaring at Doyle.

“We were just asking,” Tucker agreed, and Kimball’s lips quirked at that.

“I’m starting to realize your questions are never _just_ questions, Tucker,” she replied, but she rested her hands on her hips and kept her attention on him. “So you think when Mr. Church _hypothetically_ quits, it would be a good idea for me to apply to that position?”

“I think you’d be a good fit,” Tucker said, honesty slowing down his words. “You’ve already worked with a lot of the lifeguards thanks to the kids, you know a lot of the patrons here, you know the facility and how it works, and you know the business side on top of all that.”

“Even if I did apply,” Kimball said after a moment of silence, “It’s been a while since I worked in business, and the only aquatics management experience I have is coaching water polo.”

“That’s still experience,” Kai argued. “And you’ve probably got a lot of kickass references.”

“Not rea–”

“I’ll do it,” Doyle blurted, and everyone’s surprised gazes went to him once more. He kept his eyes on Kimball’s wide ones. “If you truly wish to apply to this position, I’d be happy to be your business reference.”

He offered her an amused smile. “I can certainly tell them just how hard you work, regardless of the opposition you face. And I possess a high enough position within my company to impress any hiring manager.”

“You would do that?” Kimball asked, her voice hesitant in a way Tucker had never heard before.

“You’re helping me with my project,” Doyle reminded her. “And we are on each other’s teams now. It’s the least I can do for you.”

“Sounds like you got a pretty solid reference to me,” Tucker said with a grin while Kimball continued to stare at Doyle. When she moved her gaze back to Tucker, her expression of consideration seemed the most genuine since their conversation first began.

“The children _are_ going to be needing a babysitter less soon,” she told them softly. “Most of their families want to try and get them earlier in the week, and have them at my house even less on the weekends after everything’s that happened with Epsilon.”

She let her gaze wander over the interior of the building from the quiet shallow end where Junior loved to play, to the diving well where the water polo players splashed and called joyfully to each other. Tucker imitated her actions and thought about all the ways the pool had become a comforting constant in his life and a place of connection despite all its flaws.

“It wouldn’t be a bad place to work at,” she said quietly.“It be even better with you,” Tucker told her, the closest he could get to revealing to her all the ways the current manager was damaging the place.

“Save the sweet talking for someone else,” Kimball replied, but there were hints of amusement in her eyes. He bit back his automatic response and also any comment about her financial situation despite Sheila’s words. Judging by the way Kimball fell silent in thought again, the woman would take that into consideration without a reminder from anyone else.

“Alright,” Kimball finally said. “If there ends up being an opening, I’ll apply.”

***

**Wednesday, March 14 th, 95 Days After Epsilon’s Death **

The lifeguards were waiting for the water polo players in the guardroom after the game to give them the news. The announcement was met with cheers and eager questions, though Carolina was quick to shoo them out of the guardroom and to the change room when she saw the water that continued to drip from their swimsuit and bodies. Only Tucker resisted, staying to speak with Wash for a little longer before joining the others in the locker room with Church at his side. The success buoyed everyone’s moods and lifted their voices into cheerful territory despite the loss they had just suffered against Kimball and Doyle’s team.

Simmons hated it.

He hated the fact that everyone was suddenly acting like taking down the Director solved all of their problems, as if challenging the Director had been a key problem in their personal lives this entire time. They might have contributed to the success, but only after they were dragged into the fight by Tucker.

If Simmons was being honest with himself, he had initially thought it would make him feel better about the mess his life had become lately. Even after they were given the good news, though, he continued to feel just as frustrated and miserable as before. The longer the others’ excited conversation went on, the more irritated Simmons became as he shoved his goggles in his bag while the others changed around him.

The conversation turned to the game they just played soon enough, Simmons reading through the three messages his father sent him that morning while the others finished putting on their street clothes. Simmons only had his shirt by the time Tucker called his name.

 “Simmons, you listening?” Simmons snapped his gaze toward Tucker who leaned against the locker, posture more relaxed than Simmons had seen in weeks.

The sight caused jealousy to spiral through him and squeeze his throat close.

“That play near the end of the first half when you and Grif fumbled the ball,” Tucker said with Simmons’ gaze on him. Grif stood across at the other end of the bench with Donut standing by him. The only ones missing from the room were the girls and Sarge.

“What about it?” Simmons snapped.

“It keeps happening, dude, and it got them a goal this match. So you guys gotta do something to fix it.”

“It wouldn’t be a fucking problem if Grif would actually _move_ ,” Simmons replied before he could stop the defensiveness from springing forth. He saw Grif go still out of the corner of his eye before the Hawaiian man slammed his locker door shut.

“Dude, just calm down,” Tucker told Simmons. “And stop blaming everything on someone else when you both fucked up.”

“Why don’t you just go fuck off with Wash like you’re always so desperate to and stop talking to me like you know jackshit,” Simmons retorted, because it was far easier to be cruel than admit his mistakes.

Tucker just raised his hands in front of his body as the others gaped at Simmons.  

“I’m not fucking dealing with this right now,” Tucker replied.  

He grabbed his bag from his locker and then headed toward the exit without looking back, Caboose and Church following in his footsteps.

“Um, Simmons?” Donut began, but Simmons cut him off.

“Do me a favour and just fuck off.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look up until he heard the sound of their lockers closing and their footsteps fading away. He thought they were gone a moment later, but when he finally looked up, he caught a glimpse of Grif glancing over his shoulder. Even though he held himself stiffly in anger, Simmons still spotted the hurt lurking beneath everything else.

Then Grif was gone, and Simmons stood all alone with the silence pressing down on him.

Without a sound, Simmons slowly lowered himself onto the hard metal bench beside his backpack. The bench creaked beneath him, and he propped his chin up with his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees. With nothing but the sound of his own breathing to keep him distracted, thoughts about how bad things had become and how he had caused a lot of it began to pour through his mind.

Seconds ticked by and instead of the thoughts fading away, they only grew stronger and stronger until they threatened to overwhelm Simmons completely. The thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone, tearing into all of the weak spots he could keep hidden from other people but not himself. They poked and prodded and pulled until he could feel himself unraveling at every seam.

He couldn’t stop it any more than he could stop thinking about Grif and his silence toward Simmons over the past weeks. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways Grif kept ignoring Simmons, bitter anger spilling from his lips and cutting at Simmons in all the places Simmons thought he had made impenetrable. Simmons couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways he kept fighting back and making things worse, even though he knew Grif was lashing out due to a pain that Simmons had caused.  

He couldn’t stop thinking about how alone he felt after receiving a small taste of the pleasure that came from dating Grif, only to lose even their friendship. He had told himself he could survive, but he couldn’t sleep properly, he couldn’t focus on school, and he couldn’t stop himself from lashing out at everything and everyone. Simmons couldn’t even stand to be around Donut and Kai too long even though they had done nothing wrong and knew nothing about the relationship. But they were still friends with Grif, and Simmons couldn’t stand to see the pity in Donut’s eyes or the confused suspicion in Kai’s.

But the worst part about all of it was that he should have known better.

He should have known that as laid back as Grif was, he wouldn’t want to lie directly to his sister about his relationships. He should have known all the hiding and secrecy would feed Grif’s own insecurities and the feelings of inadequacy that he kept expertly hidden beneath his lazy attitude. He should have known that after all their years of subtly and explicitly taking care of each other, Grif wouldn’t just sit there as Simmons let someone continuously hurt him.

Simmons could feel liquid welling up in his eyes and he tried to blink the tears away, but that only made the burning in his throat and nose worse. Frustration swelled inside his chest for he was a grown man, and yet he couldn’t control his tears any better than he could as a teen when people stuffed garter snakes in his locker.

Except this time it wasn’t any strangers he could just ignore and forget about when he grew older that were causing the hurt. Grif was the source of the tears, and the thought that they might never get back even the friendship they had before thanks to Simmons’ actions had the tears falling even faster and his breath hitching every few seconds.

The tears kept coming and Simmons bent down as much as he could. He spread out his knees and placed his head between them like he had read people were supposed to do during an earthquake while he tried to catch his breath. He didn’t know how much time passed as his thoughts continued to fall through his mind in a tangled panic when a familiar voice joined the sound of his strangled breathing.

“Hey there, Simmons.”

His head jerked up and his gaze shot to the doorway leading to the pool deck where Sarge calmly stood.

The panic inside him stilled for a single second and then rebounded with such force, Simmons nearly fell right off the bench as he jolted away from Sarge.

When Simmons didn’t respond verbally, Sarge took slow steps toward the bench he sat on. Without his composed expression flickering for even a single second, Sarge took a seat beside Simmons.

A part of Simmons wanted to laugh bitterly, because of course one of the three people he would never want to see him like this had walked right in without him even noticing. But that would require more air in his lungs than he currently possessed. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his sides and hunched over once more as he tried to get himself back under control.

Sarge didn’t say another word, but simply leaned his strong arm against Simmons’. He didn’t try to create anymore contact, somehow guessing Simmons would have punched anyone who tried to touch him more than that.

That point of contact alone slowly created a sense of calm that went slicing through the hysteria pounding through Simmons’ blood. The steady breaths of the older man and his quiet presence carved out a space of serenity within the storm tearing through Simmons long enough for the redhead to tell himself he was capable of regaining his composure.

The panic swallowed that thought seconds later, but even all the negative sentiments eating at his insides couldn’t consume the echoes of that realization. He gritted his teeth and then began to force himself to imitate the rhythm of Sarge’s breathing rather than gulp at the air. He kept his head tucked between his legs, knowing if he looked at Sarge he would only feel worse, even if what he saw was understanding rather than scorn.  

Eventually he managed to form a coherent thought about his ability to regain control and then hold that as a shield against the negativity battering his brain. His breathing started to return to its normal pattern and he stopped feeling like he was suffocating beneath the force of his own rushing blood. He stopped feeling like an earthquake was making his body shake apart, and Simmons slowly raised his head.

“Sorry, sir,” Simmons croaked when he could finally speak again. He wiped at his eyes, still unable to bring himself to look over at Sarge. He stared at the grey lockers across from them and kept his shoulders hunched against the possible derision.

“I was in the army, Simmons,” Sarge replied after a moment of silence. “That’s nowhere near the first time I’ve seen a grown man cry.”

Hope made Simmons feel loose, and he finally forced himself to look over at the older man. Sarge stayed where he sat with his arm pressed against Simmons, affection lining the gruff face as he stared at Simmons. The force of relief pouring into the holes left behind from his panic caused dizziness to overwhelm Simmons.

“Still,” Simmons said but then couldn’t continue. He glanced away from Sarge once more, trying to take stock of his body now that his mind wasn’t screaming incoherent garble at the top of its lungs.

“This got something to do with Grif?” Sarge asked after they both stayed quiet for a long moment.

Simmons had thought he calmed down despite the exhaustion now dragging at his eyes, but the name of his teammate caused him to jolt upright and his breath to catch in his throat once more. He turned his attention to Sarge who just nodded thoughtfully.

“First I thought it was about that father of yours,” Sarge said, obvious dislike souring his tone when he spoke of Simmons’ father. “But it’s pretty obvious you two are going through some sort of snit. And as much as I love to watch that dirtbag suffer, it’s starting to the affect the whole team's ability to kick some serious ass!”

Guilt jabbed at Simmons’ chest and for a moment he considered just waving away Sarge’s worry and running home as fast as he could. But after weeks of not talking about the issues with anyone, words spilled from Simmons’ lips before he could stop to consider them.

“I fucked up, Sarge,” Simmons said, the admission scraping his throat and splitting open his lips as the words fell from them. Even as his mind screamed at him to just shut up then and there, the heavy emotions coiled around his lungs eased a fraction. “With Grif. I–I said some really nasty things I never should have said, especially not to a b–friend. and now he’s pissed and I keep making it worse.”

Sarge frowned, crossing his arms over his chest as he considered Simmons’ words. Simmons knew the explanation lacked sufficient detail, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell even Sarge everything, especially not with Grif still angry at him.

“You two have said some pretty harsh things to each other before. And some days all that arguing makes me long for my shotgun, but you’ve never gone more than a day without bouncing back like some kind of strange, Red, Energizer Bunny.”

“Yeah but this–this was bad, Sarge. Really bad.”

When Sarge continued to stare at him, Simmons reluctantly elaborated.

“When he tried to help me, I–” Simmons began, thinking back to the final argument they had in Mother of Invention.

It had been a culmination of all the smaller arguments they were having about the secrecy and Simmons’ refusal to change anything about a situation Grif considered toxic. All of their issues, all of their pent-up frustration, all of their fear and hurt; it had all come to a head that day. “I brought up his mom and dad during a fight.”

“You brought up the dad who left when he was a baby, and the mom who left both of them with an empty apartment and monthly checks only?”

“Yeah.”

Sarge whistled and Simmons felt his shoulders hunch a little more.

“I threw it in his face,” Simmons whispered. “The fact that they left him. Told him that explained why he always acted so lazy and useless and he didn’t have the right to lecture me when he’s just a mess of issues that anyone in their right mind would stay away from.”

Simmons couldn’t look at Sarge after that and Sarge stayed quiet for a long moment. The things Simmons said echoed all around them, bouncing from the bright lights to the metal benches to the grey lockers, then down to the wet floors and back up to the ceiling again. Simmons heard the words as he had said them that day in the café, their harsh shape and the way Grif’s whole body flinched away from him forever branded in Simmons’ mind.

“And I’m guessing by the sheer amount of squabbling you two been doing, you haven’t tried to talk to each other about it since.”

“Talk about it?” Simmons repeated slowly as he finally looked over at Sarge again. The man rolled his eyes and unfolded his arms.

“I know you’d prefer to charge head-on into action just like any good Red, Simmons, but seems to me this is one of those rare occasions where I have to provide a more verbal strategy, as much as it hurts me to say that.”

“Sarge, he hates me. He’s not going to want to talk to me.”

Sarge snorted.

“Simmons, that dirtbag hates you as much as I hate strawberry Yoohoos. But if you continue your brilliant plan of doing nothing with your thumbs shoved up your ass, maybe one day he really will hate you.”

Sarge glared at Simmons, and the familiar gleam appeared in his eyes as he raised his voice when he spoke again. “So stop wasting your time belly-aching and actually do something about this mess before I make both of you do so many laps, you won’t want to so much as _look_ at any kind of water ever again!”

He climbed to his feet, and handed Simmons the bag he didn’t even noticed had fallen to the floor. “You’re a Red, Simmons. And we Reds don’t let nothing tear our team apart. Even if that means doing something as soul crushing as apologizing to our very own dirtbag.” 

The suggestion was so simple, and Simmons knew anyone else would have tried the straightforward method earlier. Anyone else would be shaking their heads at Simmons, wondering why he couldn’t bring himself to bridge the distance between himself and Grif long enough to swallow his pride and apologize.

Like most things in Simmons’ life, the reasons came back to his dad. Simmons’ dad had told him his pride was the one thing he should never give up, certainly not for any person. But his father’s pride didn’t make him a better father. His pride didn’t make his marriage a happy one. And Simmons knew by that point that no amount of pride would make Simmons’ dad love him or help Simmons get Grif back.

Besides, letting his father’s influence control Simmons and blaming everything on his father was part of what had made the mess with Grif even worse. It had only hurt Grif more, and made Simmons more resistant to discussing everything they needed to in order to form even a semi-functional relationship.

So Simmons took a deep breath and climbed to his feet. He met Sarge’s gaze directly, and when Sarge suggested they go for a walk to finish their conversation, Simmons fell into step beside him with as determined an expression as he could manage.

***

 **Saturday, March 17 th, 98 Days After Epsilon’s Death **                                                                

The lifeguards were holding a celebration party. To be more accurate, South declared they needed to throw a party with everyone who took down the Director since the Director had agreed to quit, Maine would be returning to the country that Saturday, and Wash was speaking with all of them again. Wash tried to point out that partying might be the last thing Maine wanted to do after a flight back from Europe, but Connie told him Maine already agreed to go if she did, to which South took as an agreement from everyone.

Simmons went along despite his usual aversion to loud, university parties since he couldn’t deny he enjoyed himself at the last one and the rest of the Reds, excluding Grif, insisted he go. Simmons had yet to have the chance to speak with Grif since Sarge walked in on him crying, as the other water polo player was always quick to avoid any situations that would leave the two of them alone. The redhead held onto the slight hope that there might be a chance at the party and if not, he could still enjoy himself and keep any harsh comments to himself.

He wouldn’t, however, have any alcohol. That caused enough problems last time, and there were no guarantees he could keep himself from trying to kiss or simply hug Grif if Simmons became drunk.

South teased him a little bit for his abstinence when he told her the day before the party, but the fact that Wash was also declining any alcoholic beverages that night softened the edges of her jokes. All Wash needed to do was remind them that alcohol was a depressant, and his refusal to drink and the toned down nature of South’s jokes made perfect sense.

Simmons arrived with Sarge after most of the others had already gotten to the house. Most of the lifeguards were crammed into the kitchen with the Grif siblings. The remaining Reds and Blues were scattered around the living room, though both Church and Tucker were missing. Caboose latched onto Donut in the meantime, and Donut seemed to be giving the Blue an in-depth lesson on organic products. Tex sat alone on one of the mattresses in the corner, drink already in hand as she texted with the other. Though Tex rarely smiled outright, something about the serious expression on her face made Simmons think that pissing her off that night was a very bad idea.

Then again, pissing off any of the girls he knew on any night was always a terrible idea.

“Hello, Simmons, Sarge,” Sheila greeted them after they took off their coats and shoved them in a small closet off the main room.

“Hey,” Simmons said. Lopez stood at her side, looking even grumpier than usual. Sarge gave both of them a gruff greeting before heading toward the kitchen and leaving Simmons with the two. “Uh, you guys doing okay?”

“Yes, so far the conversation has been very enjoyable,” Sheila replied, and Simmons glanced at the silent Lopez.

“Uh-huh.”

“You do not need to be studying right now?” Sheila asked. “I remember you mentioned a big test on Monday.”

“Yeah but it’s fine. Team bonding and study breaks and all that. You didn’t have anything else you needed to do?”

“Oh no. Date night was last night, and we have plenty of other time for schoolwork.”

Sheila and Lopez moved simultaneously to hold each other’s hands at that. Simmons blinked at them as the new piece of information slowly settled into place before he managed to give them a genuine smile. The three of them moved onto a different topic of conversation soon enough, and York and Carolina came out of the kitchen to join them a moment later.

Carolina looked tired but less ready to commit murder than Simmons expected. He had heard through the group that she was staying at York’s place for the time being, likely until she got into the RCMP and had to go away for training. Beyond that, Simmons didn’t know how she was handling the losses in her personal life, and he doubted she was talking about it much to anyone at that point.

For the moment though, she spoke and drank and joked with them like she had the party before.

Maine showed up around half past nine when most of the party goers sat in the main room. The Grif siblings remained in the kitchen with the Dakota twins, but everyone else sat in the main room. Connie and Wash sat side by side on one of the couches with Caboose squeezed between Wash and the end of the couch. Tex, York, and Carolina claimed another couch with Sheila and Lopez at Tex’s feet. Simmons sat with his fellow Reds on the mattress in front of the television, red solo cups in all of their hands and on the tables. Though the drinking games hadn’t officially started yet, most of them were already well into their cups.

They all looked toward the front door when it blew open, and Simmons’ heard South shout something incoherent from the kitchen. Maine walked through the front door a second later, the hat on his head brushing against the top of the doorway as he lugged a suitcase behind him. With his size and the amount of snow covering every part of him, he looked like the Abominable Snowman.

“You get lost in the airport or something?” Connie shouted at him, and the man flipped her off despite the suitcase and snow weighing him down. Connie laughed in response, Carolina’s own muffled giggles joining in a second later in one of the most joyful sounds Simmons had heard in days.

Maine rolled his eyes at them, and his attention went to the quiet Wash the second he took another step inside the house. He signed something Simmons couldn’t follow and Wash climbed to his feet without any further prodding. The suitcase toppled to the ground once Maine released it, but he kept his gaze on Wash the whole time.

The second Wash reached him, Maine scooped him into the biggest bear hug Simmons had ever seen. It made Simmons’ bones ache just a little watching, but Wash only wrapped his arms around Maine’s waist in response. Simmons snuck a glance at Connie, and the girl simply smiled at her two friends as her shoulders relaxed.

Once Maine released Wash, Simmons felt his jaw dropping a little as the man headed straight for Carolina rather than join Connie and Wash on their couch. Carolina simply tilted her head up expectantly at his approach, and Wash took his seat beside Connie once more. Carolina didn’t resist when Maine leaned down and wrapped one massive arm around her shoulders. He pulled her toward his bulk and she went easily, turning her head so her forehead pressed against his body. Nobody else seemed surprised as Maine bent down even further to press a light kiss to the top of her red hair and then stepped away a second later.

“New rule–nobody is allowed to leave the country for more than a month,” York told Maine with a grin.

The man rolled his eyes, but the tight set of his mouth gave Simmons the feeling he agreed with York’s words more than he let on. Instead of making a comment, Maine simply headed over to the other couch while York wrapped an arm around Carolina’s waist. Connie had managed to convince Caboose to let Maine take his seat beside Wash, and Caboose took a seat beside Simmons.

The others came out of the kitchen seconds later, the Dakota twins heading over to speak with Maine before South declared they needed to start the games.

Tucker and Church showed up an hour later with alcohol in their backpacks. Tucker had told them all he didn’t want to come until Junior fell asleep with Doc to watch him, feeling as if he hadn’t seen his son enough in the past couple weeks. Nobody argued with him when he told them, and Church stayed with him due to the small child’s unusual attachment to the abrasive man.

Despite how exhausting Junior could be, Tucker gave them all a large grin when he entered with Church in tow. Church headed straight for his girlfriend and cousin, both girls offering him smirks and remarks that made him squawk indignantly at them. Tucker headed for the trio on the other couch, stopping right in front of Wash with a smile and leaning forward so he stayed only an inch away from crossing into Wash’s personal bubble.

“Get a drink, shortie!” South shouted at him from where she, North, and Kai now sat on the floor along the open side of the table. Grif sat to their right at the foot of Connie’s feet directly across the table from Simmons. Grif refused to look at Simmons, his fifth drink of the night in his hand.

Tucker offered South the middle finger but quickly scrambled to open some booze when she started to get up. He tossed a beer through the air to Church, the other Blue cursing as he nearly fumbled the object before settling on the armrest of the couch at Tex’s side.

A few seconds later, Tucker had a beer open in his own hand as he glanced around the room for a place to sit. When he looked ready to move toward the mattress where Simmons and Sarge sat, Wash’s quiet voice stopped him. Simmons sat too far away to hear the exact words, but he caught a glimpse of anxiety tightening the lifeguard’s face. One hushed conversation later that had Sarge rolling his eyes, Tucker took a seat at Wash’s feet while Grif got up to get a bag of chips from the kitchen.

“First, new arrivals gotta have a celebration shot,” South told Tucker and Church. She pulled out a bottle of tequila from underneath the coffee table as the other two groaned. “Come on, assholes, tonight is about celebrating. Can’t do that without shots.”

“I’m pretty fucking sure you can,” Church snapped.

“Does this mean you should be taking two shots of your juice, Simmons?” Sarge asked him just as Grif entered the room. While Sarge didn’t shout his question, Donut instantly perked up at the question voiced by Sarge’s typical and loud voice.

“What else are you celebrating, Simmons?” Donut asked, only eager and genuine curiosity for a friend causing him to speak loud enough for everyone to hear. Behind him, Sarge practically beamed at his two men and Simmons felt his face go red at all the attention suddenly turned on him.

“Just, I applied for this math scholarship is all,” Simmons finally stammered out, wishing not for the first time he really was drinking alcohol instead of the orange juice Caboose shared with him. “Sarge is pretty sure I’m going to get it.

“Of course you’re gonna get it, you’re a Red!” Sarge declared. “And a damn smart one at that. Anyone tries to tell you differently, I’ll deal with them myself!”

“I’m sure you’ll get it, Simmons,” North said, and offered him a smile. 

“Well duh,” Tucker commented, and took a swig of beer.

“You could buy an ice cream truck!” Caboose shouted in excitement right by Simmons’ ear. He winced a little and then sighed.

“No, Caboose, I could use it for my tuition. Think about saving for my own place.”

Everyone started commenting all at once, Sarge’s voice rising above them all, but Simmons only had eyes for Grif in that moment. His friend just stood at the armrest by Connie, jaw hanging open with a bag of Doritos dangling from his hands. He stared at Simmons, and neither one of them looked away even as Simmons found it impossible to decipher the endlessly changing emotions flitting across Grif’s face.

“Are you going to share those with the rest of us, fatass?” Simmons finally asked, careful to keep his tone light despite the way his heart pounded in his chest. Grif blinked, and his gaze went down to the chips as if he forgot he even held them.

When Grif finally managed to close his mouth, the smallest hints of a lazy smirk began to form.

“I don’t know, Simmons, now that you’ve unlocked the ultimate nerd level, you might contaminate them.”

Simmons felt something inside his chest ease at the teasing tone in Grif’s voice, though his heart sunk a little when Grif simply returned to his earlier seat far from Simmons. Then again, they had gone through weeks of dating in secret and weeks of being harsh to each other. He couldn’t expect one little announcement to fix everything, and the understanding look Sarge shot him strengthened his resolve.

Simmons relaxed back into his seat, knowing there was nothing more he could do in that moment as South began the games. Everyone’s loud voices and arguing soon filled every corner of the room, and Simmons spent most of the time quietly observing everyone else. His gaze always returned to Grif, who seemed well on his way to actually getting drunk the longer the night wore on. Sometimes his eyes strayed over to Simmons, but he didn’t say anything, no matter how long they stared at each other.

Due to their proximity to Grif, Simmons spent a lot of the night watching the ridiculousness that was Tucker and Wash. Tucker sat on the floor against Wash’s legs, and every time Tucker made a teasing comment or retort, Wash would dig his feet into Tucker’s spine. The action caused Tucker to jolt up with a barely contained shriek every time much to the amusement of those around him, though Simmons saw South rolling her eyes at the two. Eventually, Wash spread his legs open so Tucker could lean against the patch of couch between Wash’s legs rather than the lifeguard’s shins.

This simply resulted in Wash squeezing his legs together and squashing Tucker’s face between his knees whenever Tucker was being annoying. Tucker protested loudly every time, but he always tilted his head back to give Wash a grin once Wash released him. Blatant affection lined Wash’s face when he looked down at Tucker, spilling from his eyes and mouth even when they were scrunched up in annoyance.

Simmons wondered if either of them realized they acted as in love as Tucker claimed Simmons and Grif to be. Judging by Maine’s eye rolling and Connie’s expression of exasperated fondness, everyone but Tucker and Wash were aware of it.

Nothing about their behaviour changed much throughout the night, Tucker always keeping at least a fraction of his attention on Wash even when they weren’t sitting near each other. To be fair, most of the lifeguards were focused on Wash throughout the night, reveling in the reconnection with him, as well as Maine and Connie.

Everyone but Simmons and Wash grew progressively drunker as the night wore on, yet the party seemed more relaxed than the last one Simmons attended. Most of them were just as loud as before, pounding music pulsating beneath all of their words. Yet the excited tension that hummed throughout the room and caused all of them to vibrate in anticipation at the last party was absent. No screaming matches occurred, and no prank wars or volatile arguments broke out. None of the guys said anything that had the girls targeting their crotch with a well-placed fist or kick.

Though that could have been because Tex seemed a lot quieter than usual that night. Even when she didn’t speak much around them, she always carried an intangible presence that made it impossible to forget she existed in the same space as them. But that night, her presence retracted inside her so she seemed to take up barely an inch of space even when her legs were sprawled out in front of her and her arms spread out across the couch backrest. Church stayed by her side the whole time and Simmons wondered if had something to do with Epsilon’s photos as Kai guessed last week.

Nobody asked, though, conversation kept away from the more painful topic of Epsilon’s death. Everyone seemed to have unanimously agreed to follow Wash and Tex’s lead on that subject for the night, and since they said nothing of it, everyone did the same.  Despite such topic being kept carefully tucked away, such silencing didn’t cause any tension between the others. Only genuine smiles were given, and none of their laughter strained.

Really, the ones causing the most tension that time were Simmons and Grif. Simmons did his best to give Grif his space and let the other man decide if he wanted to speak with Simmons or not. For most of the night, the answer stayed consistently negative. He didn’t approach Simmons and didn’t speak directly to Simmons. Grif only ever glanced at him, and kept most of his focus on his drink and those sitting near him. Distracted by his own crush, Tucker didn’t bring the tension to everyone else’s attention for once, and the others didn’t comment. Only Sarge kept looking between the two of them, eyes narrowed in understanding and frown slashing across his creased face.

Around half past eleven, Simmons found himself alone in the kitchen pouring the remaining juice in his cup down the sink. The chatter from the others drifted through the kitchen doorway, everyone having split up into smaller groups for a moment as they took a break from all the drinking games. Tucker’s loud laughter rose above all of the noises for a moment, though Simmons had noticed the way the Blue stuck solely to beer and attempted to pace his consumption of the liquid. The thought that Simmons wasn’t the only one trying to keep alcohol from fucking up a relationship caused a bitter smile to twist his lips.

“Hey.” Simmons turned slightly at the sound of Donut’s voice.

Donut stumbled into the kitchen with a grin, whole face flushed from the alcohol. When Simmons insisted to South that he wouldn’t be drinking, the girl turned her attention to the other Reds when it came to drinking games. She still managed to slip in a dozen jokes that made Simmons’ whole face turn bright red, though.

“Hey,” Simmons replied when Donut didn’t say anything more. His teammate tugged open the fridge door and nearly toppled over when it finally swung open. “Getting more?”

“The night’s still young and so am I!” Donut declared, twisting around from where his hand reached for mix to stare at Simmons.

The grin faded a little from his face when he spotted the now empty cup hanging from Simmons’ hand above the sink. “Hey, why you doing that, Simmons?”

“I gotta leave soon,” Simmons said, and placed his cup on his counter. “Last bus is at midnight, remember?”

“But–” Donut’s frown deepened. “You’re going back home tonight?”

“Where else would I go?” Simmons asked, and tried not to let his hurt crack his voice.

He wanted to remind Donut that he had been sleeping over at their apartment significantly less since his fight with Grif, something Donut once tried asking about. Instead, Simmons just grabbed his cup again and filled it with water as if the cool liquid could stop his insides from burning at the thought of returning to his house and father’s disapproval by himself.

“A lot of them crash here,” Donut said after a pause, and Simmons shook his head.

“Exactly, this place will be way too crowded and you know everyone else has probably already called dibs on the mattresses.”

Simmons took a gulp of water and turned away from his teammate as he mumbled, “Sides, s’not like anyone will really care if I leave right now.”

North and Connie at least tried to make everyone feel included, and South had accepted her position as honorary Red team member with zeal. The rest of the Reds and Blues got along well with at least one other person there and Simmons’ early departure would hardly dampen their mood.

Besides, the one person Simmons wanted to care was still too upset with him to even speak to him.

“But, Simmons!” Donut protested, and Simmons hastily took a step back as Donut stumbled toward him with his arms spread wide. “We’re a _team_. It’s no fun if one of us finishes earlier than the others!”

“Yeah, Simmons, don’t be an idiot.”

Simmons almost dropped his cup of water at the sound of the familiar voice, and Donut whirled around with a grin. The blond man grabbed the counter to keep himself from falling over, but Simmons turned a lot slower as the sound of rushing blood filled his ears.

Grif stood in the doorway leaning against the frame. He clutched a cup in one hand, bright gaze locked on Simmons’ reddening face. When he took a step into the room, he swayed less than Donut but enough for Simmons to notice.

“I’m not being an idiot,” Simmons protested, because of course the first thing he would do when Grif finally spoke to him was argue. “I’m just–”

“Sarge just said he could drive all of us back to our place,” Grif cut him off, gesturing wildly to the happy Donut. “’Cept Lopez cuz he wants to go with Sheila and be gross.”

“It’s not about getting to your place,” Simmons said, but then faltered when he remembered Donut stood in the room blinking at both of them. Simmons couldn’t tell if Grif understood what he was referring to, drunken frown on his face clashing with the hurt in his eyes.

“S’not like we threw your air mattress away,” Grif replied. “So there’s no issue.”

“Exactly!” Donut agreed, either not picking up on the tension in his alcohol-soaked state, or simply not commenting on it for once. “So get yourself another drink, Simmons!”

With Grif’s expectant stare locked on Simmons’ face, Simmons couldn’t do anything but protest weakly as he refilled his cup. When he looked up after, Grif was already gone but Donut still stood there. The cheerful man clapped Simmons on the shoulder and then dragged him back to the party.

Grif still wouldn’t sit near Simmons despite his words from the kitchen, leaving Simmons stuck in a silent whirlpool of confusion as Donut and the others chattered near him. Simmons decided it would be safer and far less confusing to simply stick with Donut for the rest of the night, despite the man’s constant innuendos and his desire to keep his arm wrapped around Simmons’ shoulders while drunk.

Sarge started to round up his charges around one am. Church and Tex had disappeared to Tex’s car half an hour before, resulting in a loud round of whistling and jeering. Most of the others were all starting to wind down when Sarge announced they were leaving. Caboose had fallen asleep in a curled ball on the mattress in the far left corner, and Tucker told everyone to just leave him be as he would stay and make sure his teammate was okay. Sarge simply shrugged as the others made their way out to his van, Kai joining them that time after giving everyone she could find a departing hug.

Donut and Kai kept up a constant stream of chatter the entire ride back to the apartment, Grif riding shotgun with Simmons squeezed in the back with the other two. Sarge waited until they all stumbled inside the apartment building before driving away as Kai shouted insults after him. She shrugged away from Simmons when he tried to grab her arm to tug her inside, stalking off on her own even as she stumbled in her boots.

All four of them made it back inside without any incidents, speaking in the loud whispers they thought were quiet. Nobody questioned Simmons’ presence, Donut collapsing onto his pull-out mattress with a muffled goodnight for them all and Kai heading straight to her room while Simmons trailed hesitantly behind Grif.

Grif didn’t say a word as they walked to his room, not even bothering to turn on the light so Simmons used his phone as a flashlight. He stopped dead when the light from his phone shone on the already inflated air mattress placed beside Grif’s bed.

“What?” Grif asked when Simmons just stood there.

“I–” Simmons began, and then stopped.

The mattress being already inflated meant that Grif would have had to do it before the party. Which meant he would have planned before the party for Simmons to come home with them even though he spent most of the party still acting hurt and angry.

Grif’s gaze fell on the mattress Simmons couldn’t stop staring at, and understanding broke through the drunken confusion. When he didn’t say anything, Simmons wondered if Grif had even made the conscious decision to inflate the mattress, or if the man had simply started out of habit before realizing just what he was doing and then simply going with it.

Simmons wasn’t sure which option filled him with more painful hope.

“I’m too drunk for this shit,” Grif finally said, and then stumbled to his bed without another word.

He plopped down face first, and Simmons stared at him until the larger man began to snore. Only then did Simmons slowly lower himself onto the air mattress, brain frantically beginning to plan for the morning.

***

**Sunday, March 18 th, 99 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

The alarm Simmons set woke him up at ten am the morning after the party. He knew that most of those in the apartment slept till at least half past ten after a night of drinking, and Simmons decided half an hour would give him enough time to complete the first step of his plan.

Simmons carefully eased himself off the air mattress and out of Grif’s room without waking Grif. He couldn’t hear anyone else moving around the quiet apartment yet, and nobody called out to him on his way to the apartment’s tiny kitchen. Holding his breath, Simmons opened the fridge and let out a long exhale when he saw the fridge stocked with everything he needed. Then he got to work.

Grif would be the first to point out that Simmons wasn’t an amazing cook. He still lived in a home where his mom made most of the meals and he always got too anxious when attempting to make anything requiring a more complicated step than boiling water. Part of that probably came from his lack of experience, which was another thing Grif always complained.

Those complaints stemmed from the fact that Simmons usually refused to cook for Grif when asked. Simmons would always tell the man he could cook for himself, which usually led to the ordering of take-out or attempts to persuade Donut to make them a meal.

Which was why that morning Simmons got out the full carton of eggs from the fridge, a pack of bacon, a loaf of bread, and the large grill the trio owned, and began to make the best breakfast he could. He knew that a simple breakfast wouldn’t magically fix all of their problems, but it might at least make Grif willing to sit down and actually talk to him.

Simmons wasted at least three eggs, but eventually managed to get enough on the large grill for all four of them. He used a separate pan and the stove for the bacon, poking at it every few seconds as it sizzled. When a large yawn sounded behind him, he spun around so fast he nearly lost his grip on the spatula.

Kai stood in the doorway, studying the scene before her with a sleepy gaze. The longer she stood there, the more alert her expression became, until her bright gaze locked onto Simmons’ face and refused to look away.

“So, you trying to get back in my brother’s pants by cooking for him?” Kai asked, and Simmons blushed.

“I’m not–wait. Back?”

Kai snorted, and Simmons stared at the anger twisting her face in a way he rarely saw.

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t notice when my brother was super happy all the time?” Kai demanded. “And the way you two spent way more time in his room than out in the living room like normal? You guys used to spend as much time watching shit on the couch as you did in his room, and then suddenly I’d come home after class and you’d be locked away in his room. Grif _never_ locks his door and suddenly he’s locking it for the first time in years and only when you’re over.”

“I–” Simmons began, but didn’t know how to respond.

Panic clawed at his throat at the realization that they hadn’t been as sneaky as they thought, but he tried to force the sentiment away by reminding himself Kai would never intentionally hurt them. If she hadn’t said anything until then, she likely hadn’t said anything to anyone else.

When Simmons couldn’t get his words out, her expression just grew angrier as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I thought you all of people didn’t think I was just some dumb slut,” she said, and Simmons stared at her.

Suddenly all of the colder reactions she gave him over the past weeks made sense, as did her more subdued attitude around him. The longer Simmons gazed at her, the more he could see all of the hurt twisting beneath her rage, and shame burned his throat.

Even after all that he knew of the Grif siblings and all the ways he loved them, he hadn’t realized just what it meant to be a two person unit abandoned by the rest of their family. He hadn’t even come close to understanding how deep their attachment ran for the only family member they had left, just as he hadn’t understood how much the Dakota twins loved each other until they were screaming at the other.

Staring at Kai and the way she simultaneously hunched in on herself while trying to burn Simmons with the force of her gaze, Simmons finally understood why Grif had been so against keeping her out of the loop. For in doing so, they made her feel just as alone and abandoned as she had when her parents cut her out of their lives.

“It wasn’t about you being dumb,” Simmons said, sparing a quick glance for the food as he considered how to explain to her all his incoherent reasons. “I didn’t want my dad to find out so I made Grif promise not to tell anyone.”

“You thought I would tell your dad?” Kai said, jaw dropping open as Simmons flipped one of the eggs. “After everything you’ve told us about that asshole?”

“No, of course not! I know you wouldn’t explicitly tell him.” Simmons took a deep breath, no idea how to communicate his irrational feelings, especially to Kai. “But word might get around and–fuck, Kai, I don’t know how to explain this to you.”

“Explain what?”

“How terrifying it is. How even though I know it’s possible my dad won’t find out and I know I shouldn’t care what everyone else thinks and I know what should matter the most is how happy Grif makes me, I can’t stop thinking about what would happen if my dad did find out. I can’t stop thinking he _will_ find out if anyone else knows. And I can’t just say ‘fuck him’ and be okay with it like you can with everyone who treats you badly.”

Kai stayed silent for a long moment as some of her fury faded, but none of the hurt disappeared. She remained in a defensive posture even after she uncrossed her arms.

“You think it’s really that easy for me?” she asked, voice quiet. “You think every time someone tells me my sexuality doesn’t exist, or that I’m a greedy slut, or I need to stop being such a depraved bimbo, I’m just magically okay with it? Newsflash, Simmons, I get scared and hurt too.”

Simmons paused and then turned once more to the food to give him some time to think about his next answer. He flipped over the bacon and glanced toward the bread he would need to place in the toaster soon as Kai’s words bounced around his head.

“Yeah but you know Grif’s okay with it,” Simmons finally replied quietly, and then hastily continued when he saw the way some of her anger returned. “I’m not saying all that other stuff is okay and shit, but at least you know your family is okay with it.”

“Did Grif ever tell you how he found out I was bi?” Kai asked, fingers tapping on the frame of the doorway as Simmons turned to look at her.

“I just assumed you told him?” Simmons said because the Grif siblings told each other everything except when Simmons asked Grif not to. Both of them had been comfortable with their sexualities for as long as Simmons knew them.

“I had a boyfriend in grade nine. Like, a steady thing and Grif hated the guy, but he ended up breaking up with me so then I hated him too so it was cool. But then a couple months later, I really liked this _super_ hot girl on my soccer team and we started making out when nobody else was around and it was the best thing ever. Better than my stupid ex cuz she actually knew how to kiss and hold my boobs instead of just grabbing them.”

“Um–” Simmons stopped when Kai glared at him.

“But one day we started making out on the couch here and Grif walked in on us. And the second I saw him, I started crying.”

“What?” Before continuing, Kai finally moved into the kitchen fully. She grabbed the spatula from Simmons’ hand and began flipping the eggs expertly. She didn’t look at Simmons when she spoke again.

“I thought he would hate me because I told him I was into guys and he would think I lied to him and he only liked guys. And he was just as bad at dealing with tears then as he is now, and he started yelling at the girl cuz he thought I was crying cuz she hurt me or something.”

Simmons put some bread in the toaster when Kai reached over and tapped the loaf with the spatula. “And yeah, you’re right, he didn’t hate me or kick me out or be an asshole when I finally calmed down and told him what was happening. And I’m not saying our situations are the same. But don’t try and tell me I could never even begin to understand what it’s like, or act like there’s no point in even trying to talk to me.”

She pointed the spatula at his chest and Simmons stepped back at the grim set to her face and the way she held the kitchen appliance like a knife.

“And don’t stop yourself from trying to explain shit before you even give the other person a chance to understand. Cuz guess what, Simmons? We’re a fucking contrary household and fucking with people’s expectations is _awesome_.”

She stared at him for a few seconds longer and then returned her gaze to the cooking food. They both fell quiet as they worked on the food and Simmons tried to parse through everything Kai said.

“Also, I am totally down to deal some damage with this spatula alone if your dad gives you shit,” Kai added, and Simmons felt the smallest of smiles tug at his lips. “I’ve always wanted to use kitchen appliances for violence.”

“Maybe save that for another day,” Simmons said, and then sighed. “Look, Kai, I–I’m sorry.”

Her head shot up from the bacon and she looked at him. “I didn’t mean to hurt your or Grif’s feelings like I did.”

“It’s cool,” Kai finally said a moment later. “I think. I mean now that you actually told me all your reasons it makes some sense.” She knocked his shoulder with her own. “S’not like everyone here isn’t used to dealing with shitty family stuff.”

“Yeah.” Simmons cleared his throat and tried not to let emotion overwhelm him as he spoke of the next memory. “Grif told me–he said I should make this place my home.”

“Well duh,” Kai replied. “But it already is so.”

“Even after everything that happened?” Simmons forced himself to ask even though the thought of receiving a negative answer terrified him.

Kai might not be the person he was in love with, but her friendship mattered just as much, and Grif wouldn’t be perfectly happy dating someone his sister hated.

“As long as you’re going to make up with Grif and not hurt him anymore, I’m cool with it.”

“Really?” Simmons had been expecting Kai to hold more of a grudge, especially after the hurt he unintentionally caused her. But then again, maybe the past few weeks were the amount of time she needed until he gave her an explanation she could emphasize with.

“Yeah, nerd. Just don’t do it again. Tex has been showing me some super cool boxing moves at the gym and I can’t wait to try them out on a real person.”

“Right,” Simmons replied weakly at that terrifying thought.

Kai went to go wake up Donut a few minutes later after Simmons explained his plan to speak with Grif after breakfast. Simmons was just placing everything onto separate plates for everyone while Donut complimented all the food when Grif stumbled to a halt in the doorway of the kitchen.

“What,” he said as he looked from person to person.

“Simmons made us all breakfast!” Donut declared cheerfully.

Simmons and Kai both looked up from where Simmons was trying to tell Kai she couldn’t draw a smiley face with ketchup on Grif’s egg. Kai offered her older brother a wave while Simmons froze completely, no amount of mental rehearsing adequately preparing him for the chance to make things right with Grif.

“What,” Grif just repeated, and Kai eased herself away from Simmons to loop her arm through her brother’s.

“Food,” she just said, and dragged him over to his plate.

Simmons stepped quietly out of the way, unsure which tactic to use with everyone else in the room with him. He had planned it all out last night and this morning, but now with them actually standing beside him, his mind went blank.

“Maybe it will even work miracles and cure the hangover,” Simmons said. Making fun of the other for having a worse hangover was something they always did, even as they made sure to leave a bottle of water within reach of the other.

“Please, it’s nowhere near as bad as yours after the first party,” Grif snorted as he grabbed his plate. There was an edge to his voice still, but a softer one than from all the weeks past. It bounced off Simmons’ skin and left a stinging mark, but it didn’t make him bleed.

Once they all held their plates, they carried them out to the living room where Donut put the couch back together so they could eat together. All of them devoured their food without saying much, though Donut and Kai made some remarks about the quality of food. When they were all done, Kai gathered their plates without a word from Simmons before bouncing back into the living room.

“Donut and I are going shopping,” Kai announced, grabbing Donut’s wrist and heaving him onto his feet. “For my pole dancing classes.”

“What,” Grif said, and Simmons would have teased for sounding like a broken record if he wasn’t so overwhelmed by gratitude for Kai. Donut looked surprise, but didn’t resist when Kai pulled him out of the house with her purse a second later while calling a cheerful goodbye to the other two.

Silence descended on them as the door fell shut and the two found themselves on opposite ends of the couch. Simmons looked over at Grif after a few seconds and found him studying Simmons with his arms crossed over his chest. His expression wasn’t outright hostile though, and Simmons thought it looked more tired than anything else.

“I thought we should talk,” Simmons finally managed to get out. Grif’s expression flickered for a single second before returning to one of impenetrable apathy.

“About?” he asked, and Simmons took a deep breath.

“Us.” Such a small word, yet it had Simmons’ heart pounding in his chest within seconds. “And what happened.”

Grif’s mouth parted slightly and his eyes widened as they stared at Simmons. When Grif didn’t immediately say anything, Simmons asked, “Is there anything you want to say before I start?”

“You’re a real dick, you know that, Simmons?” Grif finally said after blinking at Simmons in silence. His apathy fell away with each new word, and Simmons watched the hurt that had been lurking in Grif’s gaze for the past few weeks display itself openly on Grif’s face.

“I know.”

“I mean, I know I’m an asshole and Sarge is awful and Church is just the worst and everyone on our team is basically some degree of douche, but you–you’re _cruel,_ Simmons.”

“I know,” Simmons said again. “I’m sorry.”

“You–wait, what?” Grif blinked at him. “You’re sorry?”

“Yes,” Simmons said, remembering what Sarge said and how miserable his life had been since they fought. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was uncalled for.”

“Completely uncalled for,” Grif agreed. “Especially since I was just trying to fucking help you.”

He continued before Simmons could get out another word, uncrossing his arms as he let out a long sigh. “And look, I know it’s not that easy just letting go of your dad even when he’s hurt you, but I can’t just– _accept_ that and all the other shit when it hurts my sister and me. Even if I have been in love with you for two years.”

“That’s–wait, _what_?” Simmons gaped at him and Grif’s eyes squeezed shut for a brief moment before gave Simmons a determined and pissed off look.

“I’ve been in love with you since first fucking year, okay? So I know you think I just don’t give a shit about anything, but what you did actually hurt like a bitch, Simmons.”

“No, it’s not okay, Grif!” Simmons shouted at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why the fuck would I tell you?” Grif yelled right back. “In case it wasn’t fucking obvious to you, you’re my best friend and you never showed any interest.”

“I _kissed_ you,” Simmons said. “Several fucking times!”

“Yeah, but you said you didn’t want to date,” Grif snapped. “You didn’t say you wanted us to be boyfriends or that I was more than just a convenient mouth that everyone thinks will just go along with anything.”

“How could you think that?” Simmons demanded, Grif’s words and the obvious d distress on his face making Simmons feel sick. “We’ve been friends for years and I’ve never–I don’t–it’s not like I just go around kissing people and–fuck, Grif, that was my first fucking kiss ever, how could you think I would just give that to someone I didn’t give a shit about?”

Shocked silence followed his declaration for a single second.

“That was your first kiss?” Grif asked, and Simmons wanted to shake him even though he was supposed to be apologizing.

“Does it matter?” When Grif just looked at him, Simmons deflated slightly. “Yes, it was my first fucking kiss. Happy?”

“A little bit,” Grif replied, and Simmons thought he saw a hint of a smirk on Grif’s face. The sight eased some of the knots in Simmons’ chest even as he shook his head.

“So, since first year?” Simmons asked, and that had Grif looking grumpy again.

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“ _Really_ , Simmons? You honestly think I’m going to tell you that when I’m pissed at you?”

“The final project you did for your first year film class,” Simmons said instead, his face growing redder with each new word that fell from his lips. “When you dragged me all across town to find haunted and fantastical places to film, remember?”

Grif nodded, and Simmons ploughed onward before he could lose his nerve. “And that last one, at the end of the day, when you were bitching about how it would be night soon and you didn’t want to film in the complete dark, and I was covered in mud and soaking wet thanks to the stupid fucking pond we had been at earlier, and both of us were snapping at each other because we were hungry. But as soon as you started filming you went super serious and quiet and focused and you didn’t say anything until we were done filming. And I went home that night and I thought something felt different but I didn’t know what and I thought I was just tired. But then the next day when you showed me the film all put together and finalized, I realized–”

He faltered a little, choking on the words he’d forced himself to keep locked away for so long. But Grif was still staring at him and if he could admit his feelings, Simmons needed to do the same after all of the pain and confusion he’d caused. “I realized I somehow fell in love with your fat ass.”

Another silence fell, this one somehow even heavier with expectation than all the ones before it.

“I beat you,” Grif finally replied, and Simmons blinked at him.

“Beat me?”

“I fell in love with you first.”

“It’s not a contest, Grif!” Simmons spluttered out, because that was the only coherent statement he could manage with all of Grif’s confessions echoing endlessly in his mind and making his chest go tight.

“That first all-nighter we pulled together back in October in first year,” Grif just said. “The one you did because you had your first stats midterm and you were so anxious you couldn’t sleep and you dragged me along with you. We had that laughing fit that lasted at least five minutes in the middle of the library cuz we were both so tired. And after, I thought I was feeling all sappy just cuz I was so tired, but then it still hadn’t gone away three weeks later and here we are.”

Neither one of them said anything for a long moment, voices exhausted after all the confessions that had just tumbled from their lips.

“You didn’t say anything,” Simmons finally said.

“Neither did you,” Grif pointed out.

“Yeah but I mean all that time when I was kissing you and–”

Simmons didn’t think he could feel worse about the whole mess, but knowing that Grif had been in love with him the whole time and Simmons made sure to be as dismissive of deeper emotions as possible suddenly made him feel like the biggest monster he knew. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Grif.”

“Yeah well.” Grif just shrugged, all of the anger from earlier gone.

“Now what?” Simmons asked, because he knew after all the mistakes he made, Grif needed to be the one to make the decision about their future. If he no longer wanted to be friends, Simmons would simply have to make peace with that decision. Or at least tell Grif he could, and then spend the rest of his life miserable.

“What do you want? No lies this time, Simmons, or I will walk away right now.”

“I want us to date,” Simmons admitted, because he knew going into this he needed to tell Grif the truth.

Spending weeks without talking to his friend had been horrible, but also gave him a lot of time to work through everything he wanted but couldn’t admit to himself before. His desires clashed so much with his home situation, it had been easier to simply act like he was fine with how things were.

He couldn’t do that anymore knowing such actions hurt Grif as well as himself.

“But not like before,” Simmons added quickly. “I don’t want to hide it from Kai or Donut or anyone. I want to move out and I want to make my own fucking decisions.”

“Come here,” Grif said after a long pause.

He opened up his arms and Simmons only hesitated for a second before crawling over. He turned around so the back of his head rested on Grif’s chest as Grif wrapped steady arms around his body and held him close. Simmons let his eyes fall shut for a moment and simply listened to the steady sound of Grif’s beating heart and breathing as he used to when they were together in secret.

When Grif began to speak again, Simmons opened his eyes and blinked up at the ceiling. “You’re still a prick, Simmons. And I’m still pissed at you. But you know, you didn’t sound like you were lying about that scholarship last night.”

“I wasn’t. I really did apply for one. And I really don’t want my stupid fear of my fucking dad ruining this.”

Grif’s arms tightened around him.

“I swear to God, I will steal one of Sarge’s shotguns if your dad tries to do anything.”

“Grif–”

“I won’t use it, I swear. Just give a little warning or two.”

“That’s really not necessary, Grif,” Simmons assured him. “So, does that mean you’re okay with it? The whole dating thing?”

“We can tell Kai?” Grif asked after a moment of silence. “And you won’t just shout at me whenever I bring up moving out?”

“Yeah.”

“No kissing until I say so,” Grif said, and Simmons felt his chest ache at the rough tone in Grif’s voice.

“Deal,” Simmons replied, and he covered Grif’s hand with one of his own. After a few seconds, Grif tangled their fingers together and squeezed Simmons’ hand.

“Then deal.”

***

**Friday, March 23 rd, 105 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

One week after the Director quit, Wash told Tucker he would like to see Junior again if both Tucker and Junior were okay with that. The lifeguard spoke with Tucker more and more with each passing day, and came over to his house to study more and more. Cooking lessons were much more informal then they had been in the sense that Wash mostly just watched for the moment, though he asked questions of Tucker while watching.  

The night Wash asked Tucker about Junior, Tucker phoned Junior’s grandparents immediately and asked to speak with his son. After the short conversation, Tucker gave Wash a grin and two thumbs-up before planning when Wash could visit.

That Friday, Tucker sat with Junior on the couch in his apartment as Junior excitedly told him all about his week. When Wash texted him to say he arrived, Tucker gently cut into Junior’s conversation to direct his attention to the new arrival.

“Hey, buddy, you remember what I told you about Wash coming to visit?”

Junior nodded, some of his excitement fading away. “You remember who that is?”

A slower nod that time, and before Tucker could figure out if Junior’s reaction stemmed from shyness or actual forgetfulness, a hesitant knock sounded at the door. Tucker climbed to his feet and answered the door, giving Wash a reassuring smile when he stepped into the room with an uncertain expression. Both of their gazes went to Junior where he twisted in his seat to get a glimpse of Wash.

“Hey, Junior,” Wash said softly when the boy just blinked at him.

Tucker waited for Junior to make the first move and after a few more seconds, he eased himself off the couch. With a glance at Tucker’s smile first, Junior slowly made his way over to Wash. He stopped a couple steps away and Wash quickly crouched down so he didn’t tower over the boy. Junior stared at his face with a solemn expression as Tucker shut the apartment door.

“Are you still sad?” Junior finally asked, and Wash startled a little at the question.

“Sad?” he repeated.

“Daddy said you couldn’t play with us cuz you were sad. So does this mean you’re not sad?”

Tucker felt pride stir in his chest at the obvious concern in Junior’s voice and his retention of Tucker’s explanation. Wash looked taken aback, and he cleared his throat before answering.

“I’m still a little sad, Junior,” Wash told him, and the way his voice cracked a little made Tucker long to hug him. He settled for placing a hand on Wash’s shoulder instead, an action he had been doing a lot in the past few weeks.

Wash didn’t react verbally, but Tucker felt his shoulder ease a little beneath Tucker’s hand. “But I want to play with you guys again and I’m not too sad for that. I’m sorry I was gone for so long, but will you let me play with you guys again?”

Junior studied Wash for a long time in silence, and Tucker hoped his son would remember all the selfless and fun things Wash did for the both of them.

“Okay,” Junior finally replied, and Tucker grinned at him. It took Wash a little longer to grasp the gravity of the answer, but in a few seconds he smiled at Junior as well.

“Thank you,” Wash said, the sincerity of his gratitude making his voice heavy.

“What kinda sled do you have?” Junior asked, mind already moving on to the plan for that evening.

“My friend lent me a really big wooden one that all three of us can go on at once,” Wash told him as he straightened.

Tucker had told Wash he could come over Saturday if he didn’t want to go sledding given his hatred of the cold. But Wash assured him if their plan was to take advantage of the remaining snow that Friday, he would be more than happy to join. So Tucker told him to come over after dinner, Wash got a wooden sled from Maine, and Junior’s mom dropped off his sled on Friday morning.

With Junior’s renewed acceptance of Wash, the three of them went to work getting their winter clothes on. Junior acted a little shy of Wash at first, but warmed up soon enough as Tucker helped him put on his snow pants and jacket. Wash in turn gave as honest and eager answers as he could while zipping up his own coat. Tucker simply listened to the two of them for the most part, content to let their conversation wash over him while he struggled to shove mittens on Junior’s hands.

“We’re gonna have to get you new mittens next year,” Tucker muttered half to himself as Junior’s hand stubbornly remained larger than the article of clothing Tucker finally managed to get on.

Tucker rocked back on his heels for a moment, gaze locked on Junior’s hands as his son gestured at Wash now that Tucker finished with the mittens. For a moment, Tucker could only think about the way Junior seemed bigger every weekend Tucker saw him, and the thought made Tucker want to grab hold of his son and never let go. 

Instead, he settled for hugging Junior an extra few seconds after putting his hat on him. When Junior squirmed away, Tucker looked up to see Wash watching with a sad understanding in his green eyes. The emotion vanished a second later as Tucker met his gaze and Junior demanded both of their attention.

All of them were ready to go in a few for minutes and Tucker grabbed the red saucer sled for Junior before they headed to Wash’s car. The wooden sled was resting in the back, and they helped Junior squeeze into one of the seats even with the sleds. Tucker slid into the passenger seat and a moment later, Wash was pulling out of the parking lot and following Tucker’s directions.

Their destination was the public school closest to Tucker’s apartment, the school having a massive and steep hill at the back of its property. There were still a few groups of children racing down the layers of snow, though the weather forecast promised the white blankets would be gone with next week’s high temperatures. But for the moment, there was enough snow to make Junior’s eyes go wide with anticipation and cause him to tug impatiently at Tucker’s hand.

Wash grabbed the rope attached to the wooden sled, Tucker grabbed Junior’s toboggan, and together they trekked up the hill with Junior tromping between them. The second they reached the top of the hill, he grabbed for the sled in Tucker’s hand. Once Tucker placed the sled on the ground, Junior pushed at Tucker’s legs to try and put him in the position he wanted. Tucker laughed a little but complied with Junior’s desires.

Junior shrieked with joy the entire way down the hill. Tucker kept one arm firmly wrapped around his son’s waist while his hand gripped the sled, grinning just like Junior as the wind whipped in their face and made their eyes water. They skidded to a stop a few feet away from the bottom of the hill, cheeks already red from the cold and sore from the force of their smiles.

They raced each other back up the hill and included Wash in their next run down. They used the sled he brought, a large and traditional wooden one with room for three and a front that curled up above the first person’s legs. The rope attached to the sled was long enough to stretch past Junior and Tucker to Wash, who sat at the very back. Junior giggled as Wash positioned them at the top, Junior squeezed between Tucker’s legs. With one last reminder to hold on, Wash’s legs tightened around Tucker and then the lifeguard gave them a push to send them flying down the hill.

The evening continued with Junior displaying an endless amount of energy, always quick to jump off the sled at the bottom of the hill and demand they race back up to the top to go down again. Despite the temperatures growing colder the longer they stayed as the sun vanished from sight, the trio kept going at Junior’s insistence. For the most part, they let him choose the order they would go down the hill and on what sled.

After most of the other children were gone, Junior and Tucker discovered a small mound of snow in the middle of the hill’s slope. Tucker guessed the school children made it to have some type of ramp to go flying off of. Junior immediately wanted to try it, screaming with joy as he went flying off the bump on his saucer. Tucker retrieved the red toboggan, and then made a dramatic ride down and off the mound as Junior clapped and cheered.

“Come on, Wash,” Tucker shouted to Wash once he climbed to his feet. Wash stood at the top of the hill with the wooden sled, shaking his head slightly at Tucker’s yell. “Don’t be a baby!”

He glanced down at his son who stared at Wash expectantly. With a grin, Tucker began to chant Wash’s name, Junior looking up at his father and joining in after a few seconds. Even from their distance, Tucker could see the exasperation lining Wash’s body, but after a few more chants he slowly lowered himself onto the wooden sled. Both Tucker and Junior laughed when Wash lost control of the sled in the air, tumbling from the object with a bitten off shriek.

“That was awesome!” Junior declared when they went over to make sure Wash wasn’t hurt. He grumbled and his face went completely red, but he didn’t look injured. At Junior’s excited words, a small smile touched Wash’s face, though he rolled his eyes when Tucker started teasing him.

The night continued. Wash was always the first to reach either Tucker or Junior if they wiped out on the hill. At first Tucker didn’t clue in to the depth of Wash’s concern, simply brushing off the man’s questions. Wash didn’t press very hard either nor let anything close to fear twist his face, he simply made sure to be standing right there when someone needed to untangle themselves and stumble to their feet. It was only when Junior took a little bit longer to get up and Tucker saw Wash’s face go completely white in a single second that Tucker understood how nervous any potential injuries might be making Wash.

The lifeguard didn’t say anything about it though, so neither did Tucker. Instead Tucker simply made sure to answer as quickly as he could when Wash asked if he was alright, leaping to his feet with a bright grin and sometimes a reassuring touch to Wash’s shoulder before running back up the hill. Junior didn’t seem to notice a change, but he continued to warm up to Wash the longer they spent together, the big smile and giggling he gave in response to any mishaps easing Wash’s stiff shoulders.

As they neared the time to return home, all three of them once more went down on the wooden sled together. Wash and Tucker always steered, keeping any unnecessary spills from happening but still able to turn the sled for a bit of fun. That time they began to speed down the hill as usual until halfway through. Without the sunlight, Tucker couldn’t tell if they actually hit something or just hit a really bad patch of ice, but something sent the sled into a tailspin that left them all starting to tumble from its form.

Tucker barely had time for any coherent thought as his body jerked to the side. In the time it took him to instinctively tighten his grip on Junior, Wash’s arms wrapped around both Tucker and Junior. Then they were all slamming into the snowy ground, skidding away from the sled as snow scraped their faces and ducked down their shirts. For a few seconds, Tucker just blinked away the bits of snow in his eyes as Junior breathed in his arms.

“Everyone okay?” Wash asked, and Tucker realized Wash’s arm was pinned by both Tucker and Junior’s bodies.

“You good, Junior?” Tucker asked as he hurried into a sitting position. He helped Junior do the same, and his son giggled after catching sight of Tucker and Wash.

“Your face is all white,” Junior laughed, and Tucker grinned as he brushed away the beard of snow.

“So is yours,” Tucker pointed out, and wiped at the snow with his gloves as Junior laughed more and scrambled away.

Tucker slowly climbed to his feet as Wash did the same behind him.

“Are you alright?” Wash asked him while Junior tried to pull the sled up the hill once more.

Tucker didn’t miss the way Wash gave him a once over as if expecting to find spots of blood despite the harmless nature of the tumble. Tucker also didn’t miss the way Wash winced when he stretched out his arm.

“Yup, nothing to worry about.” He narrowed his eyes at Wash. “Your arm okay?”

Wash jolted a little at the question, glancing over at Junior’s small form on the hill before meeting Tucker’s gaze once more.

“Yeah,” Wash said, and Tucker offered him an unimpressed look.

“Really? Cuz I’m pretty sure mine would hurt like a bitch after two people slammed it into the ground with all that momentum.”

“It’s a little sore,” Wash finally admitted after Tucker refused to look away. He sighed when Tucker continued to frown at him. “I swear I didn’t break anything, Tucker.”

“Alright alright,” Tucker said, for Wash had been growing more willing to tell Tucker when something was seriously wrong over the past couple weeks.

Being the one to worry all the time was something Tucker never imagined himself doing, but that was before he fell in love with Wash and his stubborn need to act like everything was fine even when he was falling apart on the inside. “Let’s go get Junior home before he decides we need to sled through the forest and you try to take on a tree for us.”

Wash rolled his eyes at him, but couldn’t keep all of his affection from showing in his face. Tucker grinned before turning away and ignoring the desire to kiss the snowflakes from Wash’s eyelashes.

***

**Wednesday, April 18 th, 131 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

York was the only lifeguard able to visit the children Vanessa babysat that week, though the lifeguards all told him to promise the children they would visit as soon as they could. Most of them were frantically studying for their final exams, but York possessed a week’s break between two of his so he was able to take the time to visit that Wednesday evening after dinner.  

Katie answered the door and led him into the living room with a smile after he took off his coat. In the living room, he found Delta playing chess with Doyle at a small folding table while Theta and the twins watched from the couch. An action movie played on the television at the same time, Omega and Sigma’s gazes locked on the screen.

“Hey, D,” York said.

Both Delta and Doyle looked up from where they played and offered the lifeguard a smile. Theta kept frowning at the chessboard as if attempting to understand the previous play while the twins quickly started asking questions about Carolina when they saw York.  

“Whoa whoa, one at a time,” York said, and held up his hands. He crossed over to the couch and took a seat beside Theta on Delta’s side of table, the twins quickly scrambling away to make room. “She’s doing good, but she has volunteering so she couldn’t come this time.”

The twins both pouted but accepted York’s answer easily enough. “So who’s winning?”

“He is,” Delta said, pointing at Doyle but sounding more impressed than frustrated. Doyle offered the young boy a smile and then glanced up at York.

“He’s giving me quite the run for my money, though. I’ll have to be careful from here on out.”

The game didn’t look very close to finishing any time soon, most of the pieces still positioned throughout the board. York leaned forward a little and once more looked over at Doyle’s upright form. He knew from both Tucker and Carolina’s reports that the two water polo coaches were getting along much better than they had been at the start of their teams joining together. He also knew most of the children Vanessa babysat liked the other man and got the chance to interact with him at a couple of practices.

York didn’t realize they were friendly enough to visit each other’s houses, and he wondered if the visit derived purely for the children’s sake.

“Is Ms. Kimball around, D?” York asked Delta a couple minutes later when both Vanessa and Katie stayed absent.

“She’s upstairs with Gamma,” Delta explained as he lifted up his knight but didn’t move the piece. He kept studying the board even as he continued talking to York. “He is having a bad Epsilon day.”

York fell quiet at the term the children and Vanessa came up with to define the days they were feeling overwhelmed by the loss of Epsilon. They were happening less frequently with each passing week, Gamma having started to visit a therapist while Theta continued his sessions. Most of the children’s parents were starting to spend more time with them too, which allowed Vanessa to get to bed earlier so she could be at the pool early enough to finish most of her work before picking up the children.

Everyone seemed to agree that pulling the children out of Vanessa’s care permanently and all at once would be more traumatic than beneficial.

“The rest of you doing okay?” York asked after another moment when Delta finally decided where to place his knight.

The younger children all replied in unison about having a good day.

“And Mr. Doyle’s teaching us how to play chess now,” Iota added with a smile as Doyle’s face flushed at the compliment.

“Well, you’re all excellent students,” Doyle told them.

York doubted the truth of the statement given the twins’ inability to sit still for very long without asking questions, but all of the children beamed in response.

“Have you guys been playing long?” York asked, and Theta nodded.

“I needed to speak with Ms. Kimball about a water polo issue before practice this week,” Doyle explained as he moved one of his pawns. “But we both have such busy schedules that when Sigma overheard her talking on the phone with me, he suggested I simply come here while they were over. And I also needed to return a book she lent me so it seemed a good solution.”

“We get cookies,” Sigma said without looking away from the movie.

“Erm yes,” Doyle said when York shot him a confused look. “I thought the children might like them and it only seemed fair to bring something when I was encroaching on their time without any warning.”

“What’s encroaching mean?” Eta asked at the same time Delta said,

“It is okay, we like you.”

The game continued after a flustered Doyle explained what encroachment meant to Eta and thanked Delta for his words. York watched the game alongside the others, occasionally offering advice that Delta insisted sounded illogical. The other children tried to do the same until Delta told them they were all making things up, though he sometimes let the other children move a piece on the board for him.

York guessed close to an hour passed before Vanessa finally appeared. She entered the living room with a hand on a quiet Gamma’s shoulder and gave York a smile when she spotted him. After a few whispered words from her, Gamma slowly joined Omega and Sigma where they sat on the floor still watching the same movie. Sigma watched his approach and didn’t protest when Gamma pressed against his side.

“Katie,” Doyle called suddenly to the girl who materialized at Vanessa’s shoulder. “Would you please take my spot here for a few minutes?”

“Looks like you’ve got him scared, D,” York mock whispered when Delta looked slightly put out by the possibility of Doyle leaving. Doyle gave York a grateful look before replying,

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back to steal the crown in no time.”

He exchanged places with Katie who offered Delta a reassuring smile and took less than a minute to analyze the board sufficiently to make a move. York watched Doyle step out into the hallway with Vanessa, one hand going to touch her upper back for a moment as if to provide the slightest of physical reassurances. Neither one of them seemed conscious of the light touch, neither of their gazes flickering to it and Vanessa not snapping at the breach of personal space.He said something too quiet for York to hear and Vanessa shook her head before the two moved off toward the kitchen.

Even after Doyle’s explanation, York had still believed the man’s reasons for coming stemmed mostly from a concern for the children.

York was starting to reconsider that assumption.

The children’s chatter filled the air around him after the other adults’ departure, and York leaned back against the couch cushions. The pair returned moments later with a pile of plates in Vanessa’s hand and a plastic container filled with cookies in Doyle’s. Everyone paused in their activities to receive two chocolate chip cookies from Doyle while Vanessa went to get everyone drinks. York accepted his own plate with surprised gratitude and took a massive bite as Vanessa returned to the living room.

Rather than take back his seat, Doyle simply sat on the couch behind Katie, and Vanessa sat beside him after getting all the children a drink. York studied her tired face for a moment while everyone stayed quiet as they concentrated solely on the cookies.

So far all of the lifeguards agreed Vanessa was doing a good job at the pool, getting hired only a few days after the Director quit. Even Wyoming and Florida, who hadn’t been told what really led up to the Director quitting, seemed to respect Vanessa as their new boss. She was there when the pool opened so she could leave in time for the teenagers to show up at her place at three, though she always left for an hour at seven-thirty to coach water polo with Doyle at another pool.

She adapted quickly to the new environment and spoke easily with all of the patrons and lifeguards, no matter how hostile the patron. York didn’t know if she was suspicious of some of the incidents that occurred when the Director was the boss after reading through the pool’s financial records and general reports, but she hadn’t said anything to him about it.

Not even Carolina seemed to bear any ill will toward Vanessa, offering advice and support instead of letting any grief or anger she felt over her father affect her opinion of the other woman.

“Mr. Doyle, do you want kids?” Eta asked, the first to break the silence triggered by the food. All of the children looked up curiously at her question while most of the adults startled.

“Uh, well,” Doyle stammered, face going pale with everyone’s attention on him. He lowered his half-eaten cookie to his plate as he attempted to get out a coherent answer. “I’m certainly fonder of them now that I’ve grown to know all of you, but I really don’t think I’d be very good at raising one.”

“Do _you_ want kids, Ms. Kimball?” Theta asked immediately after, and York found himself curious about her reply despite himself.

He remembered North remarking on it once, but with all of the attention now on the thoughtful looking Vanessa, York realized just how young the woman could be. She always carried herself so confidently, but York guessed her to be no older than thirty two.

“Maybe one day,” Vanessa replied more succinctly than Doyle, and offered Theta a smile. “But I have all of you to keep me busy right now.”

“You’d have no trouble after dealing with this troublesome bunch,” York teased, and half of them protested loudly that they weren’t _that_ bad.

“You guys should have one together!” Iota suggested, perking up eagerly where she sat on the couch.

Doyle choked on the gulp of milk in his mouth, covering his mouth with one hand instantly to keep the liquid from spilling everywhere. At his side, Vanessa choked on her bite of cookie, coughing crumbs into her elbow a second later.

“Idiot,” Omega said, as Vanessa took a desperate drink and Doyle’s face turned red. “They’d have to be in love first.”

“I know that,” Iota protested.

Within seconds all of the children were arguing with each other, trying to raise their voices above the other as all their words slammed together into one incoherent mess of syllables. York stayed quiet for a few surprised seconds before focusing his attention on calming down Delta. Delta was quick to respond to York’s firm voice, gaze locking onto his swimming instructor while Katie, Vanessa, and Doyle worked to calm down the others.

“Am _not_ ,” Theta protested once most of the others finally went quiet. He and Omega glared at each other, and Vanessa got to her feet to stand between the two of them.

“Enough, you two,” Vanessa told them.

“But he keeps calling me a baby!” Theta said, Omega relaxing into a sitting position with a roll of his eyes.

“But of course you’re not a baby,” Doyle told him before anyone else could get a word out. “I don’t see any diaper or hear any nonsensical babbling, and you nearly beat me at chess which a baby certainly couldn’t do.”

“That’s true,” Theta agreed as Omega offered Doyle an angry look.

The teenager didn’t say a word though when he saw Vanessa watching him, and Theta’s tense shoulders slumped at Doyle’s gentle smile.

Most of the children’s parents arrived a few minutes later, with Delta being the last to leave. York stayed with him once all the other children were gone, Vanessa assuring York that late nights such as this one were becoming increasingly rare. When Delta asked worried questions about York needing to go home, York just offered him a big smile and assured the child he was having plenty of fun with him.

Katie left the house once only Delta remained, and Delta taught York how to play chess as Vanessa and Doyle cleaned up the place. York could hear their voices rising and falling with their endless discussions even if he couldn’t make out the exact words. They returned to the living room only ten minutes before Delta’s aunt showed up to take him home, Doyle departing a few minutes before Delta.

When York left after receiving Vanessa’s gratitude for his visit, a red sedan waited for him along the curb of the street. The sight alone was enough to make him grin, and he nearly slipped with his increased pace to reach the vehicle. A wall of hot air slammed into him when he ducked into the passenger seat and twisted toward the driver.

“How was volunteering?” York asked Carolina as she turned toward him with a small smile.

“There were a couple of hostile people tonight, but nothing too bad.”

York nodded as he buckled up his seat belt. Carolina rarely reported anything bad happening at the soup kitchen she now volunteered at a couple times per week. For the most part she would simply pass along some of the jokes and bits of conversation the people there shared with her.

“How were the kids?” she asked as she shifted the gear into drive and started to head down the street.

“Good. Twins wanted to see you as usual, but the only one having a bad day was Gamma.” They turned off Vanessa’s street and York shoved his hands toward the vents. “Doyle was there. They all seem to be getting along well enough with him now. Still some arguments as far as I can tell but–”

“No screaming?” Carolina finished for him, and York nodded. “Less headaches for us then.”

“Yeah.” He glanced over at her. “You still wanna practice for the interview when we get home?”

Carolina nodded just as he expected. She had passed the entrance exam to nobody’s surprise, and then burned through both the selection package and applicant questionnaire within a week. It took her another two weeks to obtain the Physical Abilities Requirement Evaluation certification, completing the course within three minutes when the required time for cadets was four. Now that everything had been processed once more by the RCMP, her next step was a Regular Member Selection Interview followed by a polygraph examination if selected to continue.

“Okay, but we’re stopping after an hour,” York told her. “We need _some_ sleep before work tomorrow.”

Carolina just smirked as they reached the intersection closest to York’s apartment. _Their_ apartment now, for Carolina moved in the same day they told the Director to quit. There had been a couple weeks where she insisted on sleeping on the couch, as if attempting to pretend they were like any other couple who just started dating. That meant acting as if they both possessed separate sleeping quarters, and York did his best to give her what space he could within a small apartment.

She didn’t talk much about her dad, but Church showed up often, and in the first few weeks York caught her staring at a ringing phone with the Director’s name on display. She never picked up and she never said anything about it to York, so he didn’t ask. When she crawled into his bed for the first time at the start of April, he didn’t question her either. Instead he simply shifted over to give her room and then pulled her close so her back fit snug against his chest.

They reached the apartment parking lot a few minutes later, climbing out of the vehicle in unison. York was quick to move around to Carolina’s side, grabbing her hand in his own and grinning when Carolina held on.

Despite the sudden living conditions they found themselves in and all of the trauma Carolina now carried inside her, York was positive they would be just fine.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I won't lie, I totally thought I already made Sheila/Lopez canon in this, just as a background couple. And then someone commented on it and I realized my mistake so oops, fixed it now.
> 
> The steps of the RCMP application process as per their website is:  
> -Entrance Exam  
> -selection package (mailed to applicants selected to continue in the process, various documents that need to be completed and returned)  
> -Regular Member Applicant Questionnaire (assesses reliability, suitability, and security clearance of applicant)  
> -Physical Abilities Requirement Examination (PARE; physical ability test that simulates the chasing, controlling, and apprehension of a suspect. Must be completed in 4 minutes or less)  
> -Regular Member Selection Interview (RMSI; one on one interview)  
> -suitability/reliability interview--Polygraph Examination (full review of questions/answers submitted on previous questionnaire with interview/polygraph examiner; will be asked questions about past education, driving history, alcohol/drug use, unlawful activities/associations, etc while hooked up to a polygraph machine. [A machine used to measure physiological reactions while answering questions in order to determine if the person lying or not.])  
> -field investigation + security clearance  
> -health assessment (done by designated RCMP physicians, assess medical and psychological health)  
> -enrollment (assigned to group of 32 cadets, begin 24-week Cadet Training Program)
> 
> Well we now have five out of the seven couples together!! Next chapter will be the last one; it will be long but I think you guys deserve to have the opportunity to read all of it at the same time. School and life are already starting to kick my ass though, so it will take me a bit longer than usual to post. (So sadly, not within a week). But I promise I won't disappear before posting the conclusion XD


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another addition to the amazing lyric piece: http://strategos-six.tumblr.com/post/131401679160/last-night-i-think-i-drank-too-much-yeah-call-it

**Friday, April 20 th, 133 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

Simmons wasn’t sure who was more surprised when his mom said he should invite Grif over for dinner that week, Grif or himself.

It had been little over a month since they started dating with all of their friends aware of the true nature of their relationship. They told Donut and Kai as soon as they returned that night, Donut immediately gushing about the happy turn of events and insisting the occasion called for a cake. Kai suggested Jensen and Volleyball put together an amazing party, at which point Grif began shutting down their ideas while Simmons tried not to let his internal shrieking become external.

Donut and Kai didn’t really throw a party, but they did make sure all of the other Reds and Blues were informed once Simmons and Grif gave them permission to tell everyone. Within ten minutes, both Simmons and Grif received the exact same text message from Tucker.

_I GET TO BE THE BEST MAN FOR CALLING THIS FUCKING SHIT YEARS AGO_.

Neither one of them bothered to respond. 

Their other friends were much less dramatic in their response, though nobody appeared surprised. When Wash texted them both a congratulations, they could only assume Tucker had texted the lifeguard right away and the others would soon know. Given the rant South went on at the last staff party about homophobic assholes, the thought of them all knowing no longer filled Simmons with the panic it would have a couple months ago.

When Simmons informed Sarge the next time they had a practice, the older man looked between Simmons’ nervous expression and Grif’s defiant glare before sighing.

“If you two ever let your shenanigans ruin our team’s playing power again, I’ll hit both of you with my whistle.”

He placed his hands on his hips and jerked his chin at the pool. “Now get in and get started on your warm-up laps. I want two extra from you for your comments at the party, dirtbag.”

Grif spluttered in indignation, but after the practice told Simmons he saw Sarge watching them with the sappiest expression Grif ever saw on the man.

Simmons didn’t tell his parents any of that though. He told them when he won his math scholarship, but not his thoughts about moving out, or the way his teammates were helping him try and find a job. Neither of his parents had ever met any of his friends, Simmons only ever inviting them to his house once in second year when his parents were away for the weekend. His dad didn’t ask about them so long as Simmons’ grades were decent and he continued to interact with all his dad’s colleagues’ children when dinner parties were thrown. His mom asked sometimes, but he never imagined her wanting to meet them if Simmons didn’t mention the idea.

After his initial surprise, Grif didn’t have any issues with the idea, which was why Simmons found himself letting Grif into his home ten minutes before dinner that Friday night. His mom had told Simmons that his dad would be out of town for the weekend, leaving only Simmons and his mom to fill the emptiness of the large home.

“I built up a sweat just walking up your long ass driveway,” Grif grumbled when he stepped into the spacious lobby of Simmons’ home.

“You sweat just walking from the lockers to the pool,” Simmons snapped as he closed the door.

He always felt guilty at the remainder of his rich home, unable to keep himself from mentally comparing it to the living arrangements of the Grif siblings and Donut. Even if he knew his dad wouldn’t like his friends, Simmons still would have avoided inviting them over thanks to the pretentious wealth that oozed from every item of his home. The lobby alone was something out of a Hollywood movie; a large and carpeted staircase directly across from the front door splitting into two separate landings that led to the second floor quarters. A glass chandelier dangled above their heads while the black linoleum floor stretched in all directions around them. A large arch led to the sitting room on their left and the one on the right to the dining hall.

Grif glanced at him and then reached over to squeeze his hand briefly. The larger man had yet to kiss Simmons, but he always offered some other form of physical contact that Simmons greedily latched onto unless he was in one of his spiralling panics. They were slowly increasing the degree of public displays of affection at a pace Simmons felt comfortable with, though they started sharing the same bed the same night they both admitted to being in love with the other.

Simmons let himself hold Grif’s hand for a few seconds before pulling away and leading him to the kitchen where his mom stood. They crossed through the dining room with all its dark wooden tables and walls, and into the bright kitchen with its large marble counters, gleaming white floor, and massive windows looking onto a cedar deck.

“Mom,” Simmons called to her where she hummed softly to herself at the stove top. She turned at the sound of Simmons’ voice and smiled the second she caught sight of Grif. “This is Grif. Grif, my mom.”

“Hello,” his mom said, and offered her hand to Grif after wiping it on her moss green apron. “Welcome to our home. Please call me Anna.”

Dinner was ready only a few moments later, and his mom shooed both of them to the table while she brought out the food. The cutlery already waited on the table for them, as did cups filled with the Cherry Coke Simmons told his mom Grif liked. His mom simply placed water beside her own plate and as soon as they were all sitting, they dug into the lasagna his mom made.

Whenever his dad ate meals with them Simmons often forgot about his mom’s conversation skills, for his dad always dominated the discussion and Simmons’ mom let him. Without his shadow covering her, Simmons’ mom was the perfect host. She asked Grif soft questions about himself, his schooling, his sister, and his friendship with Simmons. She steered the conversation in a different direction effortlessly as soon as one of them seemed uncomfortable with the topic, offering genuine smiles and gentle laughter in response to their stories.

Grif never hid his dislike of Simmons’ father around anyone, but Simmons watched his mom charm Grif as effortlessly as she charmed all of his dad’s clients and partners who visited their home. The sight made Simmons stop tensing every time Grif opened his mouth and stopped the food from continually sticking in his throat.

“Oh yes,” his mom said near the end of the meal when Grif told her about one of his final films for the previous school year.

She and Simmons’ empty plates rested in front of them, but she seemed unperturbed by the food Grif continued to pile onto his own plate. “I remember Simmons saying he really liked that one. He laughed so hard he woke us all up.”

Simmons glanced at her in shock. That film and that night were discussed only once by his dad, and the conversation consisted of a two minute lecture at breakfast the next day. It was one of the few times Simmons outright talked about Grif’s films, and his dad shut down the topic after Simmons got in a thirty second explanation. His mom stood in the doorway of the kitchen the whole time, a packed lunch for Simmons in her hand that he grabbed with burning cheeks and not a word of gratitude, desperate to escape his father’s derision as quickly as possible.

“Really?” Grif turned to smirk at him. “I remember him saying it really wasn’t that funny.”

“I said you were being too arrogant about how funny it was,” Simmons said after a second’s pause, brain still stuck on his mom’s words and remembrance of that morning. He turned to glare at Grif as his mom laughed lightly.

“Well, hubris has certainly led to the downfall of many,” his mom commented.

The teasing in her eyes made her look years younger, and reminded Simmons of how he used to love staying by her side at his dad’s parties when he was little purely for the chance to hear her tease everyone with a warm smile. “But I would love to watch one of your films, Grif, if you’re comfortable sharing them.”

Grif looked at Simmons with a shrug, which was how Simmons ended up grabbing his laptop for them to watch Grif’s films after dinner. They hooked up his laptop to the television downstairs in room that doubled as a home theatre and bar. His mom rarely used the room as far as Simmons knew, but she watched Grif’s films with as much focus as she always gave to their home’s renovation plans, sitting on the edge of the leather couch with perfect posture.

Rather than offering Grif a simple compliment after and moving to a different conversation topic, she asked questions about the process of filming, the locations, the script, and the cinematography. She wanted to know how long Grif spent on each shot and how much time it took for Grif to get all the footage he liked enough to use. She wanted to know what his and Simmons’ favourite parts were, and why Grif chose to go into film studies.

“I like it,” Grif said. “And I’m pretty awesome at it.”

His mom seemed puzzled at Simmons’ surprised expression contrasted with Grif’s nonchalant one, but she didn’t comment on it.

She walked them to the front door an hour later when Simmons told her he would be staying at Grif’s that night as the others wanted to have a gaming tournament. After the two put on their jackets by the door, she gave Simmons a hug and then took Grif’s hand in her own. She didn’t pull away after only a few seconds, expression going serious as Grif met her gaze.

“Thank you for taking care of my son,” she finally said, and Simmons watched Grif struggle with all the things he wanted to say while Simmons tried not to drown beneath his shock.

“Thanks for actually giving a shit about him,” Grif finally replied.

“Grif!”

Simmons’ mom just smiled as Simmons glared at his shrugging boyfriend.

“Simmons.” He turned at the sound of his mom’s solemn voice. She released Grif’s hand so she could place both of hers on Simmons’ shoulders, holding him close enough to smell her flowery perfume.

“If anything ever happens,” she began, and her glance to Grif caused both boys to stop breathing for a second, “I’ll be there even if your father isn’t.”

Then she gave him one last hug before Grif tugged his frozen form out the door.

“She knew,” Simmons finally said a moment later as they walked down the paved driveway toward the black gates.

His mom’s words coupled with the understanding hidden in her eyes burned themselves into Simmons’ grey matter until he fully understood it had taken his mom only a single evening to recognize the love Simmons held for Grif. She always seemed like a ghost when his dad was home, drifting from one room to the next while offering nothing more than a few soft sentences. Sometimes she offered a piece of advice or comforting gesture that would be forgotten quickly in the face of his father’s disapproval and Simmons’ desperate attempts to please him.

But neither Simmons nor his dad stopped her from seeing. They might have stolen most of her words, but nothing could stop her from watching her son and husband, and seeing through all the walls they tried to hide themselves behind.

“Is that okay?” Grif asked Simmons with a glance at his hunched form. “She seemed cool–you think she’ll tell your dad?”

“No,” Simmons said, remembering in that moment all the other smaller secrets she kept for Simmons over the years. “It’s not like they really talk that much anyways and she wouldn’t do that to me.”

He knew those words to be true the moment they left his lips. His mom would never betray him in that way, her voice weighed down by honest gratitude when she thanked Grif and then by unconditional love when she spoke to Simmons. She might not explicitly stand up against his dad, especially when he insulted her, but Simmons knew by that point that she undermined his dad in her own ways.

_For me_ , Simmons thought, suddenly realizing the only times his mom outright stood up to his dad were in defense of Simmons.

“Are you crying, Simmons?”

“Shut up!”

He stopped walking, foot sending a stone skidding across the driveway as he desperately wiped at the tears falling from his eyes while his mother’s love burned his throat. He suddenly felt too warm in his jacket despite the cool spring air ruffling his hair and skidding over his bare skin. 

Fingers touched his chin and then gently tilted his face up. Lips pressed against his in the next instant, Simmons only having time to catch a glimpse of the affection softening Grif’s face before Simmons closed his eyes at the kiss. When Grif didn’t pull away after the initial contact, Simmons took that as permission to kiss back.

Only a few seconds later the kiss deepened and twisted into one far hungrier than any of those from before that night. Hands tangled in Simmons’ hair and his hands grabbed onto anything they could, one of his scrabbling at Grif’s shoulder and the other clutching the fabric of Grif’s shirt. Heat overwhelmed Simmons, and he refused to stop kissing Grif even as liquid continued to roll down his cheeks.

When they finally parted, they were both panting and neither one of them let go of the other. They stared at each other for a long a moment as Grif slowly eased his grip on Simmons’ hair and then covered the hand Simmons’ tangled in his shirt with his own hand.

“How cool is your mom with us making out on her front lawn?” Grif finally asked, and that got Simmons to step back a little.

“Not,” Simmons said, the ability to speak coherent sentences refusing to return to him. Grif grinned.

“Well then it’s a good thing the bus ride to my place is short.”

***

**Thursday, May 3 rd, 146 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

The first time Wash drank alcohol again after Epsilon’s death was at a bar with a couple of the lifeguards and Tucker. Wash texted Tucker about the outing the night before asking if he wanted to come and Tucker insisted he would come over as soon as he finished work for the night.

Wash continued to grow more and more like his old self, though he could still be colder and more distant than before. He was talking regularly to all of them again and even invited Tucker and Junior over to his house on the last weekend of April. Tucker in turn tried to keep from acting like all of these occurrences were major events even as each one caused some of the residue hurt to ease away and his affection for Wash to grow stronger. The fact that Wash was finally asking about Tucker and Junior’s lives once more and offering his support did nothing to lessen Tucker’s feelings for the man.

So after his shift on Thursday, Tucker ignored all of the exhaustion nipping at his heels and pressing on his shoulders as he headed to the bar Wash texted him about. The place was pretty packed once Tucker arrived, but he managed to spot the small booth the others snagged after a moment. North, York, Connie, and Chris were all spread around the benches with Wash on the outside of one end. York seemed to be teasing him from where he sat across the table, Connie grabbing at one of Wash’s shoulders as she added her own comment.

Tucker watched Wash shake his head at them and smile before Tucker made his way through the throngs of people to get to them. 

“Sup,” he called over the live band that played in the corner furthest from their table. Everyone looked up at Tucker’s arrival, full pitcher of beer in the middle with half-full glasses in front of everyone.

“Hey,” Wash greeted him, and the way a smile lit up his face made Tucker wonder how much beer they’d already consumed. Given that this was Wash’s first time drinking in a few months, Tucker wouldn’t be surprised if the alcohol affected him after a reasonable amount of drinks that time.

“The party can officially begin now,” Tucker told them as Wash moved over so Tucker could slide onto the bench beside him. North passed Tucker an empty glass as Connie laughed at his declaration.

“Don’t worry, we saved all the best gossip until you got here,” she said with a wicked grin, and Tucker felt the last bits of stress left over from his exams fade away.

“Bring it on.”

None of them left the booth that night except to use the washroom, content to stay within their own circle of familiar faces. Wash was a warm constant by Tucker’s side, shoulders and arms constantly brushing against each other’s. Wash’s fingers constantly played with the glass of beer he held, yet Tucker couldn’t see any other hints of panic or anxiety. The others kept up a steady conversation filled with easy jokes and loud declarations that pushed away anything lacking the relaxed joy that spilled from their body postures.

Chris and North seemed to pay for most of the pitchers, keeping an endless supply of beer on their sticky table. For once, Tucker paced himself and made himself content with consuming two beers only. He didn’t want any drunk incidents that night and if Wash needed a quick exit, Tucker didn’t want to be too soaked in alcohol to notice.

Wash was the first to announce his departure in a reluctant tone, and Tucker’s gaze instantly latched onto his flushed face and bright eyes.

“You want me to drive you home, dude?” Tucker asked, for Wash mentioned driving there earlier in the night. “I’ve had a lot less to drink than you.”

Connie closed her mouth on the other side of Wash and shot Tucker a grateful smile, no doubt about to comment on the same thing. Wash blinked at him, but accepted Tucker’s offer of assistance much easier than he had even a month ago. They headed out of the bar together, Tucker offering a jaunty wave to the others who shouted after them.

The air outside was brisk enough for a light jacket, but not enough to make Tucker shiver, especially with the two beers warming him. If Wash was at all concerned about Tucker’s consumption of alcohol that night, he didn’t comment on it. Once they were both inside his car, they simply picked up the thread of conversation from the bar about horrible professors they had suffered through.

When Tucker pulled into the parking lot of Wash’s duplex, Wash fell quiet but didn’t immediately climb out. Instead he simply stared out at his dark home as the engine continued to run while Tucker waited. When Wash continued to say nothing and remain unmoving, Tucker turned off the engine and spoke.

“You wanna talk some more?”

Wash didn’t turn to look at him, but slowly nodded a few seconds later. Tucker turned off the engine and a soft darkness settled over them.

“So Junior’s class is supposed to be making these paper mache masks next week,” Tucker said when a few minutes passed in silence.

Wash turned to look at him and Tucker continued to speak, their soft voices sounding so much more important when they sat cloaked by the night. A single streetlight a few feet away cast a pool of light, allowing each of them to catch glimpses of the other’s face depending on the angle of their tilted heads. Nobody else walked by outside and they kept talking until Wash started yawning. Yet he still didn’t make a move to halt the conversation and leave Tucker to enter his home.

“You can come inside if you want,” Wash said abruptly. “If you still want to talk.”

“Yeah, this seat is starting to hurt my ass,” Tucker replied after a few seconds.

Wash snorted and Tucker grinned rather than press Wash on his need for company. He didn’t seem particularly sad at the bar and Tucker assumed the alcohol would have made him want to collapse into bed as soon as they arrived, regardless of having company or not. But if he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts that even the beer couldn’t keep out, Tucker would stay as long as he was needed.

They climbed out of Wash’s car together and Tucker waited as Wash fumbled with the key. Once they were both inside his unit, they threw their coats onto the couch as Cynthia came out of her hiding spot to rub against Wash’s leg. He offered her a pat and fond smile before heading toward his bedroom. Tucker followed without a word, glancing back only once at Cynthia’s meow.

They didn’t turn on any of the lights, and Tucker kept his comments to himself when Wash took a seat on his bed. He left the space closest to the wall free so Tucker crawled over to it when Wash didn’t make any further moves except to poke fun at the way Tucker tripped over himself in the dark.

Tucker elbowed him once he was settled but no amount of annoyance could prevent the way his heart sped up at the sight of Wash’s grin. They both leaned against the wall at the head of Wash’s bed, side by side with their arms pressed against each other’s.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” Wash said after another half hour of conversation passed in inky blackness. They steered clear of any serious topics, so the sentiments weighing Wash’s voice caught Tucker off-guard. “I know you’re usually exhausted after your shift Thursday.”

“Yeah well.” Tucker struggled to think of something to say that wouldn’t reveal too much about his constant desires to be closer to Wash or make Wash feel guilty for dragging Tucker out when he was tired. “After seeing the parties you guys throw, how could I resist seeing you in action at the bar?”

Wash laughed quietly at that.

“If South had been there, I think there’d be a bit more excitement. Especially her and Connie together.”

“Yeah,” Tucker replied, and then a few seconds later finally asked the question that nagged at his mind all night. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Wash said after a moment of silence. He yawned again, but added, “Yeah, Tucker, I’m fine. S’never so bad with you here.”

The honesty in Wash’s voice made the breath catch in Tucker’s throat, but he moved onto a lighter topic before Tucker could fully analyze his words. The longer the conversation went on though, the more exhaustion weighed down Wash’s voice until his sentences consisted of only a few heavy words. Gentle laughter fell from his lips in quiet breathes that barely stirred the air.

Tucker’s own eyes became harder and harder to keep open, body easing into a slack form with his arm pressed against Wash’s.

“You can just crash here,” Wash mumbled awhile later, his eyes already closed when Tucker glanced over at him.

They both fell quiet after that, Tucker waiting to see if Wash would say anything more. When Tucker found himself jolting from near sleep, Tucker once more looked over at Wash. Tucker could hear his breath moving in and out of his lungs slowly, and he didn’t stir in the slightest when Tucker softly called his name.

Tucker rubbed at his tired eyes, glancing over at the door once and then back to Wash as he slept. His hair flopped into his forehead, head tilted slightly toward Tucker. Both of them still wore socks and the blankets were trapped beneath them.

“Fuck it,” Tucker finally whispered.

Trying not to jostle Wash too much, he got off the bed and headed to the closet where he knew Wash kept extra blankets and sheets. Grabbing a lighter blanket big enough for the two of them, Tucker hauled the fabric back over to the bed and settled it over Wash.

Then Tucker got back onto the bed and eased Wash’s body into a horizontal position so he wouldn’t wake up with angry and pained muscles. Giving the room and Wash a once over, Tucker snuggled underneath the blankets beside Wash.

Tucker felt guilty for only a moment for pressing his forehead against Wash’s shoulder and inhaling deeply before sleep consumed him.

***

**Friday, May 25 th, 168 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

Time continued to pass and Wash continued to become more and more involved in Tucker’s life until none of Tucker’s residue hurt over the months of silence remained. They started sleeping over at each other’s places even more than they had before Epsilon’s death, and Church’s comments about their domesticity grew even more exasperated. Yet at the first pasta day Wash came to since Epsilon’s death, Church was the first to greet Wash and remind Caboose that Wash needed to be able to breathe when being hugged.  

On Friday night, Wash once more crashed at Tucker’s place. The two of them sat in the main room finishing up a late movie. Church slept at Tex’s for the night and Junior had fallen asleep in Tucker’s bed around eleven. At half past midnight, the only sounds came from the television, the muffled rap music playing a floor above them, and the crunch of popcorn as Tucker continued to munch on some.

“Daddy.”

Junior’s scared and quiet voice startled both Tucker and Wash, Wash jolting upright from where he’d been leaning on Tucker’s shoulder. Tucker twisted in his seat to get a glimpse of Junior’s small form and leapt off the couch a second later when he spotted the wet patches on Junior’s pyjama pants.

Junior started crying seconds later as Tucker knelt in front of him. The smell of urine slammed into Tucker’s nose but he didn’t let a single shred of disgust show on his face. Tears streamed down Junior’s scrunched up cheeks as he held his damp arms toward Tucker. His curls were plastered to his head with what Tucker knew to simply be sweat after several nights of the same incident.

“Hey hey, it’s okay, Junior,” Tucker said as he ignored the instinct to back away and instead picked up his kid. “Was there a nightmare this time too?”

Junior shook his head, tiny hands gripping at Tucker’s shirt as Tucker placed him on his hip and then headed toward the bathroom. “The bed all wet too?”

Junior nodded, shame silencing his voice. The bedwetting incidents rarely happened anymore, but Tucker guessed that fact only added to Junior’s upset feelings.

When Tucker shoved open the bathroom door, the lights flicked on before Tucker could even get a hand toward the switch. He glanced behind him and gave Wash a grateful smile when he saw the man standing patiently in the doorway. Then Tucker hurried to place Junior in the bathtub.

Wash hesitated in the doorway while Tucker quickly stripped off Junior’s urine soaked pyjamas. He took his own shirt off too and then his jeans for good measure, forgetting about any presence but his son’s for a moment. Junior continued to cry even once his dirty clothes were in a pile on the floor and Tucker turned on the shower.

“We’re gonna be nice and clean in no time,” Tucker assured him. 

He kept Junior standing beneath the stream of water, keeping the setting as gentle as he could. Then he grabbed a bar of soap and began wiping away all of the sweat and urine from Junior’s form. Junior simply stood there, hiccuping on his tears as Tucker kept comforting words tumbling from his lips.

Junior calmed down only a little bit by the time Tucker stepped into the shower himself, crouching down so Junior could meet his calm gaze without straining his neck. When both of them were clean, Tucker carefully climbed out onto the ratty bath mat and glanced toward the empty towel rack.

“Here.” Tucker turned at Wash’s quiet voice to see him holding out two towels toward him. Tucker took them with a quiet thanks and turned back to where Junior stayed standing in the shower. Obvious distress still twisted his young face and he didn’t move when Tucker turned off the shower.  

“You know, Junior,” Wash said before Tucker could start to coax Junior from the tub. “I wet the bed until I was eight years old.”

Both Tucker and Junior turned to look at Wash at that. A little bit of red coloured the man’s neck, but he remained otherwise composed with not a shred of embarrassment in his voice.

“Really?” Junior asked, and Tucker could feel his heart breaking at the shame and exhaustion in Junior’s voice. Wash nodded.

“Really. A lot of people do you know, they just don’t talk about it.”

He moved to stand beside Tucker after a quick nod from Tucker. “It’s nothing you need to be worried about.”

“Mom and I still love you no matter how much it happens, okay?” Tucker told Junior, for Crystal had told him that was a fear Junior revealed to her a couple months ago after it happened during the week. 

“Okay,” Junior finally said, sniffling a little and letting Tucker wipe away his tears and snot.

After Tucker and Wash’s assurance, the exhaustion seemed to hit Junior all at once. He remained docile as Tucker bundled him up in a towel after Tucker wrapped one around his own waist. His body began to droop, and he rested his forehead quietly against Tucker’s shoulder as they headed back to the bedroom.

Tucker flicked on the lights and surveyed the bed with a contained sigh. Wash watched him survey the room, but Wash’s gaze was consistently drawn to Junior to evaluate his distress levels.

“I need you to hold him for a sec while I change the sheets,” Tucker suddenly said, and Wash stared at him.

Tucker didn’t look at him closely, still frowning at the bed. When Tucker took a step toward him and held out Junior, Wash barely kept himself from taking a step back in panic.

“I–” Wash began, unable to get more words out at Tucker’s distracted expression.

“It will just take a few seconds,” Tucker told him, and then placed Junior in the arms Wash raised automatically.

Wash looked down at Junior as the small boy snuggled against his body and pressed one chubby fist against Wash’s chest. Affection choked Wash and sent panic skittering through his whole being. For he had loved Epsilon too, and been completely incapable of helping the boy when he needed it the most.

Junior as well would no doubt be hurt and Wash unable to offer the appropriate assistance. He might crash while tobogganing, get caught in traffic, wipe out while playing with Wash, or even fall that very instant from Wash’s arms. Tucker would be able to help him, but not Wash.

He would only hurt Tucker and Junior, just as he did when he disappeared from their lives for months.

He would break them just as he smashed one of Tucker’s glass cups when he last slept-over, lashing out at it in his nightmare-ridden sleep.

He would fail them as surely as he failed Epsilon.

“Wash?”

Wash managed to jerk his gaze up at the sound of Tucker’s confused question as he struggled to drag air into his lungs. The water polo player stood by the bed while looking back over his shoulder at the pair, hands not yet reaching out to touch the dirty sheets. No words could escape Wash’s open mouth and all at once, understanding flashed across Tucker’s face.

“Oh shit, here,” Tucker said as he realized his mistake.

He stepped toward Wash with a hand out for Junior, but Wash’s grip on Junior just tightened and he found himself shaking his head. That caused Tucker to fall still, only a foot away from them as Wash tried to find some coherent explanation amidst the panicked screaming in his brain.

Even though he knew he couldn’t take care of Junior like he deserved, Wash found he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go of the sleepy ball of warmth now resting in his arms. If he let go, anything could happen and there would be no guarantee Wash would ever be able to hold Junior again.

Tucker’s face softened and he stepped closer so his body sheltered both Wash and Junior. Wash wanted to tell Tucker he knew the two deserved better than the jumble of broken pieces Wash now consisted of. They deserved better than someone who had put himself back together with a few measly strands of thread, and still found himself freezing up at the sight of a child who reminded him of a dead one he hadn’t been able to save.

Before Wash could get any of those words out, Tucker rested a hand on Wash’s shoulder. Warmth bled into Wash’s tense muscles and the contact instantly started to make him feel more grounded.

“Junior’s okay, Wash,” Tucker said softly, and Wash couldn’t have looked away from Tucker’s face even if he wanted to. “You’ve got him and he’s breathing just fine. Listen.”

So Wash listened, focusing on the quiet sound of Junior’s constant exhales and inhales. Tucker’s breathing overlapped with his son’s and the calm rhythm soon started to soothe Wash’s panic. Tucker kept his gaze on Wash’s face, nothing but the desire to comfort written in his expression.

“I’m okay, Junior’s okay, and so are you,” Tucker continued once Wash’s breathing slowed a little. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“Sorry,” Wash finally managed to choke out. “I’m–if anyone should be upset, it’s you and Junior, not me.”

Tucker’s face tightened at that and before Wash could say anything more, Tucker slowly wrapped his arms around Wash. He pulled Wash closer, Junior’s sleeping body nestled between the two of them.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Tucker repeated, chin resting on Wash’s shoulder as Wash let himself relax in the embrace. “Promise.”

For just a moment, Wash almost believed him.

***

**Friday, June 15 th, 189 Days After Epsilon’s Death **

The water polo season ended with the Reds and Blues making it further than any of them every guessed they would. The playoffs for the league lasted until the end of June and they managed to make it to the quarter finals before losing.

Despite the impending game, their last practice before what would be their final game ended with them goofing around as they always did. Sarge shouted more than usual and they all took the drills throughout the practice seriously, but even Sarge didn’t bother cutting in when they all started to simply dunk each other at the end of their scrimmage.

When their practice time officially ended, they all split into separate groups in the pool and on the deck by the diving tank. Tucker remained treading water by the bulkhead, Church sitting on the edge of the pool as he took off his swim cap and goggles. Caboose towered above them on the pool deck with his goggles still encasing his eyes and a big smile on his face.

Sheila, Lopez, Donut, and Kai all stayed in the middle of the pool, Donut and Kai tossing the ball as high into the air as they could before the other tried to catch it. Their eager encouragements and loud whooping echoed off the pool walls, no other patrons present to be disturbed by their obnoxious behaviour and the lifeguards all tucked behind the glass window of the guardroom.

Sarge put the water polo balls into the red, rusty cart on the deck, but kept turning to yell over his shoulder at Grif and Simmons where they rested against the wall. The sight of them side by side with their hands clasped in each other’s after all the turmoil they went through made Tucker smile a little. After making everything official, the two had yet to have a disagreement that led to the amount of avoidance and hurt the team witnessed months earlier.

“–if you do not shut up,” Church was saying to Caboose when Tucker finally tuned back into their conversation. Tucker grabbed the side of the wall to hang off it as he looked between Church’s exasperated expression and Caboose’s happy one.

“Yeah, Caboose,” Tucker said with a grin. “Only Church is allowed to bitch nonstop.”

Church rolled his eyes and then shoved Tucker’s head underwater without any further warning. The cool water climbing past his head couldn’t stop Tucker’s grin, and he quickly suppressed his laughter as his vision filled with the blurry sight of the tiled walls of the pool.

Even while submerged, Tucker heard the muffled sound of Caboose’s excited shout a second later. When Tucker spluttered back to the surface, Church and Caboose were both looking over at the guardroom, Caboose waving eagerly.

“Son of a bitch,” Church said as Tucker followed their gazes. His mouth fell open when he spotted the newcomer, and then a grin lit up his entire face.

Wash stood on the other side of the pool deck right by the guardroom door, backpack slung over his shoulder and waterproof watch strapped to his wrist. Kimball and North both stood in the doorway of the guardroom speaking to him, smiles on both of their faces. They all looked toward the water polo players after Caboose shouted Wash’s name for the fourth time, and Wash gave them a smile that possessed too much hesitancy for Tucker’s liking.

The lifeguard said a few more words to North and Kimball, and then crossed over the bulkhead to reach the water polo players. Everyone swam over to Tucker’s side and climbed out of the pool as Wash made his way over, only Sarge appearing unsurprised as the older man ambled over to the growing group.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Tucker said when Sarge reached the spot where Tucker pulled himself out of the pool. The older man shrugged as the Reds stepped up to his side.

“Wash wanted to keep it a surprise.”

Wash arrived before Tucker could respond and he was met with a chorus of excited greetings and questions about his return. Some of the hesitancy faded from his face as he looked around at all the players crowding him, and Tucker offered him a grin after sidling up to his side.

“I wanted to watch your guys’ next match,” Wash told them after their questions died down.

Water dripped from all of their wet bodies and formed small puddles at their bare feet. Even Wash didn’t wear any shoes or socks, shorts and white tank top reflective of the humid temperatures inside and outside the pool building. “And if you’ll have me, I want to coach again.”

“And here I thought being away might have made you _less_ melodramatic,” Grif commented with a roll of his eyes. Despite having moved from their sitting positions, he and Simmons still held hands where they stood beside Sarge who faced Wash directly.

“I’m so happy we can all play together again!” Caboose cried where he bounced on the balls of his feet on Wash’s other side.

“I think we all share Caboose’s sentiments,” Sheila said with a smile, squeezed between Kai and Lopez.  

“I guess you’re not too bad for an old cop,” Kai told Wash, hands placed on her hips but a smug grin on her face. Donut nodded in cheerful agreement from his position between Kai and Sarge.

“You don’t get to hound our asses into productivity and then just quit on us,” Church snorted, standing at Tucker’s left side.

“You didn’t even go to half his practices!” Simmons cut in.

“Yeah but I had to listen to Tucker talk about them. That’s more painful than the practices themselves.”

Tucker offered his roommate the middle finger and then turned to grin at Wash.

“I told you before,” Tucker said. “This group is all about obnoxious interruptions. Like we’ll stop you from barging right back in and being our coach.”

“I can’t decide if you’re worse or better than Sarge, but we haven’t kicked him out yet,” Grif added, Simmons elbowing him and Sarge glaring at the comment.

“ _Al menos así Tucker y Caboose podrían dejar abatido tanto. Pero si hay más ridículo coquetear voy a tirar la pelota en sus dos caras._ ” _(_ _At least this way Tucker and Caboose might stop moping so much. But if there’s any more ridiculous flirting I will throw the ball in both of your faces.)_

“You’re right, Lopez!” Donut said, voice loud with cheer as Sheila squeezed Lopez’s hand. “It really is a perfect, happy ending.”

“It will be perfect when we kick the rest of them teams’ asses!” Sarge said. “Now enough mushy feelings time! We’ve got work to do!”

“Practice is over,” Grif said, at the same time Kai shouted,

“Fuck you, old man, it’s smoothie time!”

“What does that even me?” Church asked while Grif and Sarge started arguing with each other.

“It means your girlfriend likes me better than you!”

Tucker started laughing at Church’s scowl, twisting away as Church elbowed him. The motion caused Tucker to nearly slam right into Wash, Wash grabbing Tucker’s elbow to keep him steady as Church and Kai dissolved into bickering. Even once Tucker righted himself, Wash kept his hand on Tucker’s bare skin for a few extra seconds as Tucker looked up at him.

“Still glad to be back?” Tucker teased, and Wash smiled.  

“I’ve never been happier.”

***

**Wednesday, July 18 th, 222 Days After Epsilon’s Death**

For Tucker’s birthday that year everyone agreed on going out for karaoke. That evening Tucker and Church waited on the couch of their apartment together, Church playing Halo while Tucker texted Wash. The loud sound of gunfire filled the air, occasionally falling quiet when Church paused the game to take a sip of the beer that sat on the coffee table. Tucker kept his own drink cradled between his knees and only looked up when Church spoke directly to him.

“You know, Tucker,” Church said just as Wash texted to say he would be there soon. “I’m surprised you haven’t just made out with Wash yet like you do every time you like someone. It’s basically your go-to confession and it’s been fucking months.”

Tucker looked up to frown at him and Church paused game. When Church kept staring at him and made no move to pick up the controller resting in his lap, Tucker answered.

“You know why, dude.”

Church snorted.

“I know it might come across as a shock, but I don’t spend all day thinking about your and Wash’s sickening crushes for each other. So I really don’t know.”

“He’s been grieving, Church. He didn’t feel comfortable being around his friends for months and he needed support, not relationship drama. And I don’t want him dating me just cuz his grief is making him lonely or whatever. Unhealthy relationships are just shitty.”

Church stared at him for a long moment, eyes widening dramatically.

“Holy shit,” Church finally said. “You really are in love with him.”

Tucker just rolled his eyes rather than deny Church’s statement outright, setting his phone down on the coffee table.

“Like you can talk.” He elbowed Church and his roommate scowled at his grin. “I’m expecting to get an invite to your and Tex’s wedding any day now.”

Tucker lifted his beer and drank the last remains of the liquid sloshing in the bottom. He climbed to his feet to get another one and glanced at Church, surprised to see his cheeks turning red and his roommate gazing pointedly at the floor. When Church mumbled something, Tucker paused in front of the couch.

“I have no fucking idea what you said,” Tucker told him, and then nearly tossed his beer at Church when he muttered something in reply. “Holy shit, who are you and what have you done with my obnoxious roommate?”

“I _said_ ,” Church replied, finally raising his voice and lifting his face to glare at Tucker. “Maybe you will get one someday.”

Tucker blinked, mind going blank when he finally realized what Church referred to.

“You asked Tex to marry you?” Tucker screeched, and leapt back onto the couch. Church flinched away as Tucker knelt on the stained couch cushion and leaned into his personal space. “When? How? Why the fuck am I just hearing about this? Did–”

“I haven’t asked her yet, you fucking moron!”

Church’s face went the reddest Tucker had ever seen it, and he would have stopped to take a picture of it if he wasn’t so impatient to hear Church’s explanation. “I’m just saying that maybe if we’re still together after we graduate and everything–that’s at least three years of dating and you know–”

“You love her,” Tucker interrupted, and grinned when Church scowled. “You are completely and utterly whipped.”

“So _maybe_ ,” Church said. “I’ll ask her. In a few years.”

Tucker laughed at how disgruntled Church appeared at the reveal, and his grin only widened when Church grumbled before taking another gulp of beer. He turned his attention back on Tucker when Tucker reached for his phone, Church’s eyes narrowing at the object.

“Who are you texting now?” he asked, edging closer to Tucker in his suspicion.

“Betting South ten bucks that Tex says no the first time you ask her.”

Five minutes later, Wash and Tex walked into the apartment to find the two grappling with each other on the couch. Church shoved one hand in Tucker’s face and also grabbed at the phone Tucker extended over his head where he lay pinned by Church’s body weight. They both looked up when the lifeguards entered, freezing at the sight of them and Church’s gaze automatically flickering to Tex’s face.

“What?” Wash asked at the same time Tex simply said,

“Don’t even ask.”

She walked further into main room, both Church and Tucker scrambling into sitting positions at her approach. Tucker shoved his phone into a pocket and stuck his tongue out at Church before nearly shrieking when Tex chucked an object at him.

“Happy birthday, asshole,” she told him, and Tucker lifted up the wrapped object.

A second later, Church got to his feet and headed into his bedroom while Tex took his place on the couch. He came back out as Tucker tore open the wrapping paper to reveal brand new headphones, the outside of the box promising them to be a bright cyan green.

“It’s from me and Caboose,” Tex said, and Church prodded at her shoulder but she refused to move. Wash hovered at the back of the couch and Church offered Tex a grumpy look before moving to stand in front of Tucker.

“Shit, thanks,” Tucker said, turning the box over and over again in his hands.

His headphones broke only a week ago and while he hated going without them, he also hated spending so much money on them.

“Now you can stop worrying about Church being too loud when I fuck him,” Tex replied, and Tucker wondered if it would be bad form to hit her with his new present. The indignant noises that came from Church and the way Wash went slightly red at her words made Tucker forgive her a moment later.

The gift Church shoved at Tucker distracted him a moment later, and he wasted no time in opening it despite how often the Reds and Blues gave each other gag gifts. A brown, leather wallet lay in his hands once the wrapping paper drifted to his feet and Tucker slowly opened the wallet up.

“Now you can get rid of that pile of duct tape you call a wallet,” Church said as Tucker studied the small slot for pictures, a small cord crossing over the surface and hooking onto a button. “That part folds out with a bunch of other places for pictures so you can actually show off all your Junior pics to people.”

Sure enough when Tucker undid the cord, the small slot tumbled toward the floor and ten other slots followed, all of them dangling in a vertical stack from the right side of the wallet. He grinned up at Church and his roommate offered him a smile after rolling his eyes.

“Happy birthday,” Church said, and Tucker felt some of the stress he’d been carrying since the phone calls he received that morning fade away. Not completely vanish, but enough that he could offer the others a genuine grin even if the rest of his body still felt brittle. 

“I’m gonna go transfer the photos right now,” Tucker said, for the ones in his old wallet were all shoved into one small, bulging pocket. Trying to find a specific one to show people always meant taking out the entire lump and trying not to drop any as he showed off all of them.

Tucker carried both presents and headed toward his room while Tex shouted after him to put on actual bar clothes. Only once he entered his room and the door closed shut did Tucker notice Wash had quietly followed him inside. Wash held a small green bag in his hand, blue tissue paper sticking out of it.

“Happy birthday, Tucker,” Wash said, and offered Tucker the bag with a smile.  

They could hear the muffled voices of Church and Tex through the walls, but otherwise only silence settled around them. Wash didn’t say another word and Tucker’s arm felt heavy as he raised his hand to take the bag. The room seemed to hold its breath with Tucker as he slowly opened the bag and his hand closed around the edges of the object inside.

Tucker pulled the object out and flipped the box over in his hands until he saw the goggles secure behind the plastic.

“You were complaining about your old ones a lot,” Wash said when Tucker thanked him. “There’s something else.”

Tucker gave the bag a shake to test the validity of Wash’s statement and then grinned when Wash made a biting comment about the object inside potentially being breakable. Once more Tucker reached into the bag, feeling a little lighter after Wash’s joke even as some of the tension stemming from all the possibilities inherent in that night stayed in the air around them.

The front of a CD case gleamed in the light as Tucker withdrew Wash’s present. Tucker frowned down at the title scrawled across the blank piece of paper stuffed inside the front of CD case and then turned the CD over to read the paper inserted in the back for an explanation.

“Holy shit, you made me a mixed tape?” Tucker exclaimed when he finished reading the small blurb, gaze shooting to Wash’s face. The lifeguard tapped his fingers lightly on his hip as his ears went slightly red, but he met Tucker’s gaze directly.

“Well, you did make me that thing on 8tracks,” Wash replied. “I don’t really know how to use that website, but I do know how to burn CDs thanks to making so many for aquafit.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t make an actual mixed tape with how much you love the classics,” Tucker teased, and Wash smiled.

“I figured you didn’t have a cassette player,” Wash said dryly, and Tucker laughed.

“Okay, fair point.” Tucker looked back down at the back of the CD, list of songs written beneath the tiny blurb. A grin so big it made his cheeks ache stretched across his face as he studied the words written in Wash’s handwriting. “Can I play one?”

“It’s your present, Tucker,” Wash reminded him. “Do what you want.”

Tucker rushed over to his laptop and inserted the CD in quickly. His laughter started anew when the first song that blasted from his speakers was “U Can’t Touch This”, wrapping his arms around his sides as he doubled over. The loud notes of the song danced beneath the sound of his amusement and when he finally looked up again, the breath caught in his throat at the fond look Wash was giving him from across the room.

“Are you okay, Tucker?” Wash asked as Tucker straightened. He startled a little, but couldn’t drag his gaze away from the intense look Wash gave him. “You seem kind of off.”

Tucker wanted to laugh at that, but the noise stayed trapped firmly behind his teeth at the thought of how hysterical it might sound. Of course Wash noticed the residue bitterness shaping Tucker’s posture and seeping from his eyes. Of course he noticed the helpless notes in Tucker’s laughter that stemmed from the way every part of his chest felt squeezed too tight.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Wash didn’t seem convinced so before he could ask anything more, Tucker offered, “My aunt called this morning. To offer me a happy birthday and shit but you know, just kinda made me feel worse.”

“What did she say?” Wash asked gently when Tucker didn’t elaborate.

Of course he would ask, pressing the matter even when Church left the issue alone after Tucker offered the same explanation he already gave Wash. For Wash had been as supportive as Tucker tried to be for him, especially in the wake of Epsilon’s death. He showed Tucker every day that he cared about Tucker as much as he had before Epsilon died and Wash hid away in his house. There was no space for any of Tucker’s hurt or wariness with thoughts of Wash’s displays of renewed affection and blatant support spreading through every part of Tucker.

After all those months of silence, there were now countless new memories that showed Tucker he could trust Wash with the vulnerabilities straining against Tucker’s clenched jaw. He could once more trust Wash to help him back to his unsteady feet when someone else’s words and sentiments knocked Tucker down, just as Tucker would help Wash.

“I mean, it started off okay,” Tucker said, pausing the music and then taking a few steps back toward Wash. “As okay as she is with me. But then she made this comment about how old I was getting and if I was thinking about my future and shit yet. Which is the stupidest question I’ve ever heard because who the fuck wants to think about that on their birthday? I want to get trashed with my friends and I didn’t lie to her, I told her of course I didn’t give a fuck about that right then.”

Tucker was gesturing more and more with each word as the conversation echoed in his mind. His aunt’s stern and disapproving voice dug into the insides of his skull and sent anxiety crawling underneath his skin. “And she just–she brought up my dad.”

“What?” Wash said after a beat of silence, voice gone completely flat. Tucker looked away at that and let a sour laugh escape his lips. Without moving any further than a couple steps from Wash, Tucker shifted from foot to foot.

“Yeah, it was fucked. She was like, I know you’re dad ran out on you and shit but you know he wasn’t a failure in his work life. As if that somehow makes up for what an asshole he was in his personal life.”

Tucker could hear the anger ripping through his voice and he forced himself to lower his volume a notch. “I don’t know what the fuck she was thinking, but she just kept going on about it like she actually admired him cuz apparently by my age he’d already passed his fucking MCAT and he was applying to a bunch of med schools and looking at pharmacy too. And even if he didn’t get into that he had some back up plan with a friend of his who owned a bunch of family restaurants.”

He was gesturing too broadly and violently, he knew, but he couldn’t stop himself from throwing his hands in the air in frustration. “Like what the actual fuck? Who does that? Who brings up this dude who ran out on their nephew and sister and is like hey you know what, at least he was a smart guy? Not like you, Tucker, oh no, you’re fucked cuz you aren’t thinking about your future on your fucking birthday and you don’t have any grand plans even though you’ve got a kid to support, and you should really be trying harder instead of sleazing around with everyone you meet and all your useless friends. And she was basically being a total bitch about it, but you know she’s right about Junior and my lack of ambition or whatever because I haven’t even thought about what I’m doing next _month_ , let alone after graduation which–”

Before Tucker could get out another word, Wash suddenly stepped forward and grabbed Tucker’s wrists where they gestured in the air by his chest. Tucker went still instantly at the contact, not resisting as Wash slowly lowered Tucker’s arms so his limp hands hung at his sides.

“Tucker,” Wash said firmly without releasing his hold on Tucker’s wrists. “Do you remember what I told you when I first started coaching you guys? Why I was so frustrated?”

“Cuz if we tried, we could be really good,” Tucker replied, easily remembering their conversation in the café from nearly a year ago and the truce they established that day.

Wash smiled and Tucker tried to ignore the way that coupled with the physical contact made his heartbeat pound faster with each second.

“And wouldn’t you say you guys are pretty good now? You might not have gotten first place, but you guys went from not even an official team to making it to the quarter finals.”

“Well yeah. You know we all think we did pretty fucking awesome.”

“Well the same thing will happen with whatever it is you end up trying after undergrad.”

Wash said it with such conviction, Tucker couldn’t get any words out for a moment. “And you don’t have to have any grandiose plans if that’s not what you want for yourself. All that matters is _you_ being happy with whatever ends up happening.”

His grip on Tucker’s wrists tightened and Wash tilted his head toward the door. “Sides, all those people who are waiting outside and at the bar already think you’re pretty amazing. And they might be the weirdest group of people I’ve ever met, but they wouldn’t celebrate the birthday of someone they didn’t like. And Junior already thinks you’re the best dad in the world.”

Without raising his voice in the slightest, Wash added, “So your dad and aunt can go fuck themselves.”

That drew a startled laugh from Tucker, and Wash’ smile widened with affection. Even after Tucker’s laughter quieted, Wash still didn’t let go of Tucker’s wrists. Instead, his thumbs moved in circles across Tucker’s skin in a gesture of comfort and Tucker’s breathing became unsteady when he realized how little space separated the two of them. He watched the way Wash seemed incapable of looking away from him or breaking the heavy silence settling over them. Tucker couldn’t move away even as Wash seemed to lean closer and–

“Birthday confetti!”

They both startled at the sound of Caboose’s shout, Wash dropped Tucker’s arms in an instant as they stumbled a step away from each other. Bits of blue and red confetti rained down around them and Tucker turned to see Caboose beaming at them with a small confetti cannon in his hand. Church stood just outside the bedroom as he groaned at Caboose, Tex shaking her head beside her boyfriend.

“Thanks, Caboose,” Tucker finally managed to get out, even though he felt more like punching his oblivious teammate and his face still felt too hot.

“Okay, let’s take some shots and go,” Tex said before any of them could stand there awkwardly for too long. “A bunch of the others are already there and you two are way too sober to head out yet.”

Everybody obeyed Tex without question, though they kept any alcoholic drinks far from Caboose’s hands. Tucker was sure the day he drank with them was the day the apocalypse would occur. But just like every time before, Caboose seemed to content with his juice so long as he could stand with the others and be involved in their conversation.

They all took a bus downtown to meet the others half an hour later. The karaoke rooms they intended to rent were located in a place known only as Joenes’ bar to locals despite the sign plastered on its front. It was a fairly quiet establishment entered by steps leading down from one of the busiest downtown streets.

With all the Reds and Blues as well as some of the lifeguards attending the event, they booked the largest karaoke room the bar had in advance. The table in the middle of the room was already covered with alcoholic beverages and pub food by the time Tucker and the others arrived. The flat-screen TV hanging on the wall that the karaoke machine hooked up to remained quiet as most of the attendees gathered around the massive binder of song selections South held in her arms.

Everyone looked up when Tucker and the others entered, greeting him with a discordant chorus of “happy birthday’s” and varying insults. Tucker grinned and bowed for all of them as Church shoved his shoulder and the others laughed. Kai bounced over with a drink for him and then everyone all but threw the Ipad for song selections into his arms.

“Birthday boy first,” Grif told him from where he lounged on one of the leather couches, Simmons perched on the cushion beside him.

“I’ve been preparing for this all week,” Tucker told them, and quickly moved to South’s side so he could look up the code to type in for his song of choice.

In between the songs he sung, his friends offered him their gifts. Even though they booked the biggest room, there still weren’t enough leather couches in the room to fit everyone, some of them sitting on the beige carpet as they sipped their drinks and shouted at whoever was singing. The food was devoured within the first hour, South tossing bits of leftover fries at Grif when he demanded they order more. York, already drunk at that point and continually giving them updates on when Carolina and North would arrive, agreed with Grif. Everyone rolled their eyes at Grif, but shelled out some change to split the bill when more food was ordered.

The night wore on with more arrivals cramming themselves into the room. Both Connie and Maine offered Tucker a hug when they showed up with Chris in tow. North and Carolina burst through the door with a verbal apology from North and another drink for Tucker in Carolina’s hand.

“A little bluebird said your singing’s funnier when you’re drunk,” she told him when Tucker teased her after accepting her drink from his perch on the end of one of the couches.

“Thanks, asshole,” Tucker shouted cheerfully to Church where he stood with a microphone at the front of the room. Church gave him the middle finger without turning around as Tex continued to prod him into singing a song with a smirk. Tucker took a sip of the drink and then offered Carolina a shocked look. “Holy shit, this tastes amazing.”

Carolina just offered him a smug smile as she took a seat beside Wash where he pressed against Tucker’s side. York was quick to stumble over to her and South shouted at them to choose a song.

The night continued in the same manner, everyone growing progressively drunk and their dancing at the front of the room progressively wilder. Several of the girls filmed the boys whenever they got up to sing, Tucker already laughing at the thought of checking Tex and Kai’s Snapchat stories the next morning. They always made sure to film Caboose when he went up to sing, for he only ever seemed to know a quarter of the actual lyrics, spending the rest of the song confidently making up his own despite the words on the screen.

Tucker was too into the music to consider taking some of his own videos, humming and bopping his head along even when it wasn’t his turn. Wash’s constant presence at his side and quiet commentary only intensified the warm happiness oozing from Tucker’s every pore.  

Around midnight, Tucker left the room with Kai to get some more drinks from the bar itself. They sauntered up the grainy wooden counter, a few sparse people sitting at the wooden tables throughout the dimly lit room as a live band played country music in one corner of the room. There were some people spread around a couple of pool tables in the far back of the room, sound of billiard balls smashing against each other and the players’ drunken taunts swelling underneath the sound of music.

Tucker and Kai rested their elbows against the surface of the bar and waited for a server to appear when Tucker spotted a familiar face only a couple of feet away from them at the bar.

“Kimball?” he blurted over all the noise, and the two ladies standing near them turned toward him.

A smile broke across Kimball’s face and she headed toward them as Kai twisted around. Tucker pushed off the bar slightly so he stood on Kai’s side and could face Kimball directly rather than look around Kai’s shoulder at her.

“Holy shit, what are you doing here?” Tucker asked with a grin when Kimball came to a stop in front of them. The other woman moved to stand at Kimball’s side and slight recognition stirred in Tucker’s booze soaked mind.

“You look incredibly familiar,” the other woman said before Kimball could answer. She took a step closer to Tucker with a serious gaze, dark purple shade of lipstick a fitting match to her black hair. “Oh, you brought your son into my walk-in clinic ages ago, didn’t you!”

“I–” Tucker blinked at her as the woman beamed at him. “I mean, maybe? You look familiar?”

“Emily Grey,” she said cheerfully, and offered her hand for them to shake. “Or Doctor Grey as I would have introduced myself then! The world is a small place, isn’t it?”

“You’re the one who mentioned Doyle,” Tucker finally remembered, the more memorable bits of that visit slowly surfacing. “Or well, your secretary did?”

“That’s right! Kimball and Doyle _did_ mention they knew you thanks to water polo–oh, you were the one who suggested they join teams!”

“That was us,” Kai agreed with a grin.

“But that was months ago!” Tucker said, glancing between the two women as a server still remained absent despite the lack of other patrons. “And you must see dozens of people each day.”

“Oh, I remember every person who comes into my clinic, even if it’s just once!”

“Just don’t question it,” Kimball told Tucker, amusement dripping from her voice. “Emily has a terrifyingly good memory.”

Tucker and Kai shared a look, Kai simply shrugging at the revelation. A server arrived at that moment, and they all turned their attention to the matter of ordering drinks before continuing any conversation. Tucker examined the others once more as they chatted with the server, struggling to fully comprehend Kimball’s casual attire given he’d only ever seen her in more professional environments. Even with the children, she never wore anything like the shimmering blue capped top, folds of fabric dangling down over the black leggings she wore. At her side, Emily wore a purple halter top and skinny jeans, the plunging necklines of both women’s tops fitting for the bar.

“So why _are_ you guys here?” Tucker asked again once the server left to go make their drinks.

“Doyle invited us,” Kimball replied, and Tucker gaped just the smallest amount at that. “His coworkers dragged him out so he invited us along.”

“Really?” Kai asked, glancing between the two of them with renewed curiosity. Both of them knew the two coaches had been getting along progressively better, but Tucker didn’t realize that extended to going to bars with coworkers together.

“Oh yes,” Emily said, as endlessly cheerful as Donut. “Ever since the two of them went to that work party for the project Vanessa helped him with back in March and April he’s been inviting her to all kinds of events.”

“You act like you didn’t pester me with invitations as soon as you finally met me,” Kimball said with a wry smile, and Emily just waved away the addition. “She showed up to practice one morning a couple months ago without even warning Doyle and next thing I knew, I had ten text messages from her inviting me to lunch with them the next day.”

“That’s a great way to make friends,” Kai said without any hint of sarcasm, and Emily beamed at her.

“Exactly. It’s how Doyle and I became friends in university–well, actually, that one involved me inviting him to several meditation sessions at the campus rec centre after he kept showing up to our one mutual lecture unreasonably stressed.”

The server returned with all of their drinks, and the sight of the owner behind the bar momentarily distracted Tucker from all the developments he was receiving about Kimball’s personal life.

“Hey, Joenes!” Tucker called to the owner who looked up with a sour expression. Tucker gestured his drink toward him with a grin. “Awesome drinks as always!”

“Wait, I thought his name was Jones?” Kimball asked with the confused frown as Joenes shouted something unintelligible back.

“What?” Tucker said as he turned back to her. “No, of course not, what kind of uncommon name is that?”

They each returned to their respective karaoke rooms a few minutes later with cheerful waves. Tucker and Kai were greeted with demands to know what took them so long, both quick to spill the gossip they learned as Carolina and Wash tried to quell the drunk speculation.

When they finally all left the bar hours later, half of them could barely walk upright without stumbling every few seconds and Tucker only had a few fragmented memories of how he got home. He woke up the next morning to find neither him nor Church even made it to their beds the night before. He could only vaguely remember Tex and Wash helping them get home, but the two gave up after that task judging by everyone’s positions.

Tucker looked down from the couch to where Tex and Church were sprawled on the floor on a collection of pillows and blankets Tex must have pulled off Church’s bed. He couldn’t remember why she didn’t just get into the bed instead, but both of them remained asleep when Tucker woke in the early morning light.

No blanket had been given to him where he claimed the couch, though he woke with his sweater half on his chest, half dangling over Wash’s shoulder where he leaned against the couch on the floor by Tucker’s head.

For a long time, Tucker sat in the quiet and listened to the sound of everyone’s breathing as he tried to puzzle through the fuzzy memories of their ride home the night before. He gave up a moment later with an unconcerned shrug, slipping back into sleep as the memories he could remember pasted a smile on his face.

***

**Tuesday, July 31 st, 235 Days After Epsilon’s Death **

Despite the fact that Carolina’s flight left in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, the airport was crammed with people when York and Carolina arrived. None of them so much as gave the two a second glance, and they made their way to the final gate with ease after York obtained a gate pass. Since Carolina insisted on getting to the airport at least three hours before her boarding time, there were plenty of vacant seats to choose from in the waiting area at the final gate.

“Church?” York asked when Carolina pulled out her buzzing phone as soon as they took a seat.

Her cousin had an internship for the summer, so Carolina and York stopped by his apartment that morning before leaving the city for the airport in the larger city two hours away. The apartment was quiet and empty when they arrived, Tucker still at Wash’s where he stayed for the night. The visit ended up being a brief one, York stepping out into the hallway near the end to give the cousins some privacy, a scowl on Church’s face the whole time York saw him and a sullen tone seeping into all of his words. Only a few minutes passed before Carolina exited the apartment, an unhappy set to Church’s pale face and hunched body even then.

For once Carolina didn’t snap back at her cousin, everyone fully aware Church’s grumpy attitude stemmed from having to be separated from the one family member left for at least six months.

“Yeah, I’m telling him to stop being so unproductive at work,” she replied, fingers flying over the touch screen as York committed every detail of her to his memory. He watched as she tucked a piece of her red hair behind her ear before putting away her phone and turning to York with a small smile.

They fell into conversations as time ticked by and the space around them filled with people. Most of their words stayed safely on the topic of their friends, staying far away from the issue of parents except for when York mentioned his mom wanted to meet Carolina when her training was done. If the invitation took Carolina off-guard she hid it even better than she normally did, and deftly twisted the topic back to the party thrown last night.

They talked about the ridiculous antics their friends got involved in despite the lack of alcohol the night before, attempting pool floatie races and coaxing the Reds and Blues into a game of lifeguard shark.

They talked about how smoothly Vanessa continued to run the pool, and how the water polo players continued with their antics in the morning despite the official season of the league being over. Neither of them knew yet who would be replacing Carolina as one of the deck supervisors but all of them were taking bets on how the new person would react to Tex, who would be working there until she graduated at the end of the next school year. 

They discussed their friends’ various new living conditions come fall, though most of them were staying where they lived that past year. Simmons had won his scholarship and found himself a work-study job for the fall semester, so he would be moving in with the Grif siblings and Donut come winter break.The only other change in living accommodations besides Carolina’s own was the growing number of nights Tucker and Wash slept over at the other’s place.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me to deal with Wash’s obvious crush all on my own,” York complained at that, and Carolina snorted.

“Pretty sure Maine and Connie are the ones dealing with the brunt of it. Church has resigned himself to texting me one complaint a day about it.”

“Yeah but they don’t work the morning shift with him,” York pointed out. “They don’t have to witness the ridiculous flirting me and North do in the morning. You _know_ how bad it is then. I’m pretty sure the Reds are going to have to go to the hospital soon just from the sheer amount of eye rolls they give Wash and Tucker.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Cuz you weren’t in the guardroom half the time. Trust me, I think North is actually considering letting South talk to Wash about it and just accepting the penalty and Wash’s bloody nose.”

“They’ll get to it when they’re ready,” Carolina just said calmly. York stared at her suspiciously as she chose that moment to glance out the window at the blue, open sky once more.

“What do you know?” York asked, but she only laughed.

“Just move on, I know you have plenty of gossip about everyone else.”

So they talked about South and North’s latest prank war, Wyoming’s plans to move to the States, and Florida’s cheerful fixation with the pool. They spoke of Four Seven Niner bonding with Caboose and Kai, the physiotherapy programs Connie was considering applying to, Maine’s new love of sushi, and the invitation from Tex’s grandmother for her and Church to spend a weekend up at her cottage.

They discussed Wash’s idea about getting a kitten specifically for Junior but keeping it at his own house to save Tucker from all the costs and time that came with a pet. Then they considered Vanessa and Doyle’s idea to take all of the children to an amusement park with as many of the lifeguards as they could one day in the summer.

When they exhausted most of the latest news about their friends, York turned to coming up with increasingly bizarre ideas of what Carolina’s fellow cadets would be like, earning him the peals of laughter that always made him grin.  

York lost himself in the conversation, but he didn’t miss the way Carolina kept glancing toward the large windows that gave them a view of the planes and runways even as her responses stayed as quick-witted as ever.

Half an hour to boarding time, the blue chairs were all full and people were lounging on the dirty, blue carpet with their carry-on bags scattered around them. Carolina insisted York take his leave of her at that point and he didn’t argue, knowing if left to the last minute, she would simply give him a distracted hug and hurry to the waiting attendant as fast as possible.

Her energy was contagious for York, and the small but proud smile she wore while in the airport made him forget for a moment how much he would miss her. Instead, he imagined her in Regina kicking everyone’s asses and showing all the RCMP officers just how lucky they were to have her.

“I’ll Skype you once I’m settled,” Carolina told York as they both got to their feet to say goodbye. Her purse rested on the chairs they stood by, red hair hanging loose to the blue t-shirt she wore. York wanted to freeze the moment for just a little longer, but she looked at him with an expectant gaze.

“Alright, I love you.” He kept his lips upturned, unwilling to dampen the happiness she earned or their last memory together for a while.

“And don’t worry,” York continued. “I’ll be sure to have a great pick-up line waiting for you when you finally get back.”

Carolina rolled her eyes at him. “So I take that as a no? How about a massive sign? A welcoming party? Shower of roses? Ooh, or–”

She grabbed a fistful of his tan shirt before he could get another word out and pulled him in for a kiss. York instantly wrapped his hands around her wrists and shifted closer as he kissed her back. When Carolina finally stepped away, she was smiling at him as she said,

“Greet me just like that.”  

***

**Monday, August 6 th, 241 Days After Epsilon’s Death  **

“Remember to let one of us know if you can’t come to the practice, otherwise we’ll see you Thursday,” Kimball reminded all of the water polo players as they slowly dispersed to their towels and split into smaller groups along the pool deck.

Kimball watched everyone where she stood by the edge of deep end of the pool. Unlike Blood Gulch, the pool her and Doyle’s team practiced at only possessed one tank which held the shallow and deep end unseparated by bulkheads. The pool was closer to Doyle’s office than Blood Gulch and it also seemed busier as a whole, but after attending and working at Blood Gulch she found herself favouring that pool over all others.

She watched Bitters tease their newest member, Matthews, as they stood in a group with some Feds and Kimball’s old team members alike before she headed over to her bag on the benches. All the teenagers she passed gave her only smiles and eager questions, a welcome change from a couple months ago.

There were a few emails waiting for her when she checked her phone, but no phone calls or text messages from any of the lifeguards working at Blood Gulch reporting an emergency while she had been at the morning practice with Doyle. They had agreed on holding practices twice a week in the summer, given the busy schedules both of them were always juggling. Sometimes they held them in the afternoon when the children were already in her care, and sometimes in the mornings before Doyle needed to go into the office.

Holding the practices at the public pool Doyle’s team used to practice at rather than her own had been an easy choice to make given how small their old pool had been, the pool heater and locker room lights broken more than half the time.

“Um, Ms. Kimball?” Kimball looked up from her phone at the hesitant voice. She turned around slightly to see a hesitant Randy, one of the old Feds, standing in front of her. “My family’s going to our cottage for two weeks so I won’t be at the practices then.”

“Okay, no worries, Randy,” she assured him. “Just make sure you send us an email to remind us.”

“Right,” he agreed, and then hurried back over to Andersmith.

Most of the players were starting to drift toward the locker rooms, some of them yawning and chattering about how they were going back to bed as soon as they got home. Kimball glanced back down at her phone when it buzzed, but the message was an invitation from Emily to dinner that weekend with her and Doyle, not an emergency from Blood Gulch.

Kimball typed out a quick reply after flicking through her phone’s calendar, the message triggering thoughts of Doyle and an awareness of the sudden absence of his voice. When she put her phone away again and looked up at the pool deck, she found the other coach gone and only a couple of players left standing by the puddles on the grey floor.

The nets and balls were all gone from the deck though, so Kimball headed over to the equipment room. Doyle stood with his back to her when she entered the grey, concrete room crammed with toys, noodles, pool cleaners, life jackets, and shelves for various items. The far wall of the room was lined with shelves and a large basket where Doyle put away the water polo balls.

“They seemed tired today,” Kimball said, and Doyle started at the sound of her voice.

He turned around fully as she took another few steps into the room itself. Her shoes scuffed on the metal drain, water absent from the floor for the moment but beginning to drip from the basket that held the balls.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I asked them about their sleep schedules, but there didn’t seem to be any schedule to the hours they gave me.”

She smiled a little at that, thinking of how erratic summers used to be before she started doing part- and then full-time jobs.

“School will fix it,” she replied. “But until then, I think we should make the warm-up longer. Just a couple more minutes should be enough.”

“Given how short you know I find the warm-up now, I have no arguments against that,” Doyle said with his own smile.

He glanced down at the yellow water polo ball he still held in his hand and tapped his fingers slightly on the object. “I was actually going to come ask you about something else. I was thinking that perhaps we could have a party for the team. It _is_ summer after all, and we never did have an end of the season party like my team is used to. I’d be more than willing to hold it at my house if you’d prefer.”

“It’s a good idea,” she said, still caught off-guard sometimes by the thoughtfulness she had so long considered lacking in Doyle. Her words quickly made her think of other memories though, in place of her surprise.

“But maybe not as much wine as the last company party we went to,” she added dryly. He laughed at the reference and she felt a relieved smile touch her lips at the instant response he gave despite the months that had passed since the company-sponsored party thrown after Doyle completed the project she helped him on.

The red colouring his neck and creeping over his face told her he also remembered how they had passed out together on his couch after the party, and the way he called her beautiful when they stumbled into each other at the banquet hall of the party.

“Given we are the only ones of drinking age, I’m sure it won’t be an issue,” Doyle replied, not making any move to exit the room. “Although I suppose Emily might like to come.”

He pursed his lips in thought for merely a second before continuing. “And of course, we’ll have to make sure we have enough juice for the younger children you babysit–Theta and the twins prefer apple, correct?”

“Yes,” Kimball said after a second, familiar affection stirring in her chest at Doyle’s inclusion of the children without even a second thought. “Delta likes orange, and Gamma likes grape to be contrary.”

“Ah yes, I remember them arguing about it at the last practice they went to,” Doyle said with a slight smile. “Well then, I guess we should send out an email tonight asking everyone which evening or weekend works best. I–”

He continued thinking out loud and Kimball only interjected occasionally as she stared at the man who had slowly, impossibly, become the closest friend she possessed. A million moments led them there, triggered by the mutual cooperation in water polo they finally obtained and the first time Doyle lent her a book all the way back in March.First there were text conversations stemming from observations about events during their days, the books they read, the water polo team, their lives, and everything in between. Then text messages on both ends to remind the other to eat and sleep after noticing the way their busy schedules often caused forgetfulness in those areas of life.  

Outings with him and his coworkers despite not working at the same company as them. Doyle at her house helping with the children and staying after they left to help her with chores so she didn’t feel overwhelmed by all the domestic responsibilities piling up alongside all of her other work.  

Then came moments like going with him and Emily to all their regular restaurants and favourite spots in the city. Hesitantly, and then without questioning a single invitation, there came free evenings spent with only Doyle’s company. Evenings spent arguing over where to get take-out from for an hour, and then another hour spent arguing about the movie choice. Evenings where they spent too much time talking about science fiction of every medium despite both having an early morning. Evenings where they nearly choked on food when the other imitated lines from the movies or books they both liked. Evenings where Kimball nearly spit out her wine when he imitated annoying customers she complained about, not stopping until a smile replaced the frustration twisting her face.

Evenings filled with laughter as Doyle spun her around and around the main room, insisting traditional dances were just as fun as modern ones.

Evenings were followed by days dragging him along forest walks with the children because she thought he spent too much time stuck inside the office and then sequestered in his home. On those walks she listened to the children tell Doyle all of nature facts they knew, and then she stared as he helped the younger ones climb trees when the first branch was too high off the ground. She laughed as he nearly fell right off the second branch when the children insisted he climb up with them, and the sound continued to pour out of her when she joined them.

At the same time Kimball began to receive video messages of Doyle from Emily on top of the invitations and random information she sent Kimball. A video of

A video Doyle freaking out over a bug, screeching for Emily to kill it while she explained out loud what she thought it was. A video of them on a kayaking trip together and Doyle clinging to the capsized canoe. Videos of him realizing a video was being taken and trying to grab the phone away while Emily laughed and ran away down the hallways.

At one point, the receptionist at Emily’s clinic somehow got a hold of Emily’s cellphone and Kimball received a video of Doyle trying to convince Emily to get more involved with the interior décor of her office, gesturing in his enthusiasm as Emily protested loudly.

Finally there were those moments where Doyle listened to Kimball rant over the phone when a patron pushed her final button, talking her down from committing murder or self-imploding. Moments where Kimball listened to Doyle vent about the latest unreasonable requests and scandals at work and then to talked with him until he felt confident again, swearing colourfully about his employers when he was too hesitant to do so himself.

The aftermath of those moments were just as memorable for Kimball. Watching with an affectionate pride she hadn’t felt in a long time as Doyle took to heart her insistences that he stand up for himself and his projects. Kimball feeling calmer after speaking with him on the phone, or accepting his suggestion of stepping out and having a drink at the café with him for a half hour break.

“I haven’t had much use of the barbecue since I moved in, but I’m sure it can’t be too difficult to use,” Doyle was saying, chattering on without seeming bothered by how quietly Kimball listened.

His words washed over her as all of those past moments swirled in her mind alongside the more recent memory of her realization that Doyle appeared in a significant number of the pictures she’d gotten into the habit of taking frequently now that Epsilon couldn’t. That realization had occurred the other day just as her mom finally appeared while Kimball waited for her at an Italian restaurant, her mom immediately asking who Kimball had been texting so furiously while she waited. Kimball slipped the phone in her purse and waved away her mom’s questions by simply saying it was a friend, not bothering to specify it was Doyle.

But of course, Kimball attempting to ignore the stirrings of realization only worked for a moment. From there, her mom commented on how much better Kimball looked; healthier and less exhausted. Her mom thought she was finally looking after herself and making her health a priority, when really it was Doyle who had been doing that for Kimball since they started genuinely cooperating with each other.

“I know how to work a barbecue,” Kimball finally cut in when she realized Doyle was still talking about the instrument. He blinked and gave her a genuine smile as amusement tugged at her lips.

“Well excellent. We’ve had them before for the team but someone else always ended up doing that part.”

He continued, and Kimball felt all the thoughts she returned home with after lunch with her mom yesterday press against her chest. They strained against her skull just like yesterday as she finally became aware of the way she and Doyle had silently and easily slipped into all of the cracks the other’s busy life possessed.

Kimball shifted slightly, Doyle giving her a questioning look as some of the sentiments exploding inside her must have finally shown on her face. Before she could open her mouth, she remembered her mom’s parting words insisting that Kimball think about her own needs as it seemed like all she had been doing for more than a year was taking care of the kids.

So Kimball did something for herself before she could begin to doubt herself.

She stepped right into Doyle’s personal space and pressed her lips to his.

The water polo ball dropped to the floor and then slowly rolled away.

Hands grabbed at her hips and pulled her closer as she felt any whispers of doubt melt away at the warmth of Doyle’s lips. She cupped his face with her hands, and all of the thoughts of her responsibilities constantly rolling around inside her head vanished in a single second when Doyle kissed her back.

When they finally parted, Kimball opened her eyes and found Doyle’s wide ones locked on her face. Neither one of them said a word or made to widen the distance of a few inches that separated them. Only once she realized how pale his face had become did Kimball take a step back.

“Don’t you dare!” Kimball warned, thinking of his unfortunate fainting tendencies. He leaned against the basket and took a deep breath, hands falling away from Kimball when she took another small step back.

“Just one moment,” Doyle managed to get out, and the longer she studied the shock on his face, the worse she felt.

The equipment room suddenly seemed much too small with Doyle’s silence and she found herself feeling like a teenage girl who just found her crush liked someone else.

“Sorry,” she said, unable to keep her voice perfectly neutral despite the many years she spent perfecting the mask. But then, Doyle always had been the one who could make her composure crack with a single word. “I misread–”

“No!” Doyle protested, and he grabbed her hand when she tried to take another step away. “No, that was exactly–you just made me the happiest I’ve been in a very long time.”

“What?” Kimball said, staring at the blush inching up his neck. He kept his gaze locked on her, shoulders straightening and hand firmly holding onto hers’.

“Well, if we’re being perfectly honest with each other, my feelings for you haven’t exactly been just platonic for a while now,” Doyle admitted.

“Oh,” Kimball said.

The revelation stole the words she usually controlled with ease, and her shrieking thoughts about his rejection went quiet. She moved back into the space she had put between the two of them and tangled her fingers with his.

“Yes, Emily was quite amused by it,” Doyle said with a sheepish smile. “Though I think she might have been getting slightly exasperated with how long it was taking either of us to do anything.”

“In our defense, I haven’t really been paying much thought to my personal life,” Kimball admitted, but that only made Doyle’s smile grow. Affectionate understanding replaced the sheepishness in his facial expression.

“You were focusing on everyone who needed you instead. It’s one of your admirable traits. I, on the other hand, was simply afraid of rejection.”

He slotted his other hand into hers as they dangled in the minuscule space between them, and a smile to match his touched her lips. “It would seem that it was a rather baseless fear.”

Kimball opened her mouth to respond, but a loud voice from outside the room cut her off.

“Ms. Kimball?”

“Mr. Doyle?”

The pair let go of each other just as Katie and Randy appeared simultaneously in the doorway.

“Um, are you still okay to drive me home?” Katie asked hesitantly, and Kimball bit back a curse.

“Right, of course.” Kimball stepped toward the girl but then halted to look back at Doyle where he stayed in the same spot. But when she caught his gaze, he offered her the happiest smile she’d yet to see on him.

“I’ll message you later,” he said, and she nodded with a smile of her own before leaving with Katie.

There was already a text message from Doyle asking her on a date when she got back to Blood Gulch.

***

**Saturday, August 11 th, 246 Days After Epsilon’s Death **

Junior woke Crystal up at seven in the morning on the day of his sixth birthday. He snuck onto her bed and grabbed at her shoulders, shaking her gently until she finally blinked awake. The lights remained off and he kept his voice to a whisper, no doubt worried his grandparents would catch him and send him back to his room. They loved him, but they were stricter than Crystal about how early he should be waking everyone up when they all had school and work.

“Hey, buddy,” Crystal whispered, shoving away the grogginess clawing at her mind. She rubbed at her eyes as she pushed herself into a sitting position, purple blankets falling away from her as Junior knelt at her side. “Too excited to sleep?”

Junior bobbed his head before grabbing at her arm.

“We gotta decorate,” he told her, and Crystal offered her son a reassuring smile.

“Your friends won’t be here for a while, you sure you wanna start now?”

He nodded so vigorously Crystal couldn’t help but laugh and then cup his face in her hands to still the motion.

“Okay okay, just don’t hurt yourself before everyone gets here. Nobody wants you to be burnt out.”

“I’m fine!” Junior insisted, and then tugged at her hand. “Come on, Mommy.”

So Crystal followed her son out of her dark room and down the stairs to the quiet kitchen to make them both some toast for breakfast. Neither one of them changed out of their pyjamas for the moment; bare feet padding across the hardwood floor of the hallway and the cool air of the house tickling their exposed legs and arms. Her parents still slept soundly and Crystal opened all the curtains on the main floor to let soft sunlight seep into the inside of their Gable Front house.

When they finished breakfast and Junior fidgeted on the stools at the marble island, Crystal allowed the baking to begin.

Most of the festivities were to be outside where her own mother would barbeque everyone food and tables of chips and baked goods were to be set up. Junior’s cake had been baked the other night, safely tucked away on the highest shelf of the fridge and the container taped shut. But all of the cupcakes and cookies she promised to make had yet to be baked.

So with the room growing brighter around them and the sounds of her parents’ footsteps starting above their heads, Crystal put a homemade apron on both of them, put her curly brown hair in a ponytail, and then began the baking.

Junior asked when his father would be there at least three times each hour, and every time Crystal patiently reminded her son Tucker would get there at noon. She and Tucker both agreed two hours would be enough time to set up the backyard and the decorations together. Tucker much more reluctantly agreed to let Junior stay at her house the Friday night before so there was no possibility of him being late to his own party.

Both her parents offered Junior tiny trinkets and a happy birthday when they came down the stairs, leaving mother and son to deal with all of the baking while they went to get groceries. The moment they were gone, Crystal hooked up her Ipod to their speakers and let Junior choose the songs to blast throughout the house as they mixed the ingredients and sung along. She made sure to take at least three videos of her son dancing across the linoleum floor of the kitchen, her mother taking several more when they returned two hours later.

By the time noon rolled around, all of the baking was finished and both Crystal and Junior were dressed in clean clothes. Despite the faded nature of the old shirt, Junior insisted on wearing his t-shirt with all the avengers on it, and then insisted Crystal wear her Superwoman tank top. Crystal complied easily enough and then laughed as her son bounced up and down on his bed as he pretended to fight bad guys.

The second the doorbell rang, Junior leapt off his bed and sprinted to the door with an excited shout. Crystal hurried down the stairs after him, nearly tripping on the action figures he left scattered by his doorway. His small hands fumbled with the doorknob of the front door, but he eventually dragged the door open as he bit his lip in determination.

“Daddy!” Junior said, and launched himself at the grinning Tucker standing on the front porch.

“Happy birthday!” Tucker told him as he lifted Junior into his arms. Junior wrapped his own arms around Tucker’s neck, giggling when Tucker spun them both around in a circle. “You pumped for the party?”

“Mommy and I baked lots of cookies,” Junior told him. Crystal moved closer to the pair when Tucker finally stepped inside the house, closing the door with one hand while his other arm kept Junior safely perched on his hip.

“They taste any good?” Tucker asked, offering Crystal a small smile even while he directed his question at Junior.

“Mine’s the best,” Junior proclaimed, and Crystal laughed. The sound broke the cool quiet of the hallway, bouncing off the pale violet walls and the dark hardwood beneath their feet.

“Well that’s no surprise,” Tucker said seriously, though she could see the laughter dancing in the eyes he kept on his happy son.

“Careful,” Crystal warned them both. “I’m the one who gets to decide just how many you both get.”

Both of them protested loudly and Junior groaned when Crystal just crossed her arms over her chest, trying to the suppress the smile tugging at her lips.

“Come on you two,” Crystal finally cut in as they continued to protest her threats. “Junior needs at least one healthy meal before all the junk.”

“What about Daddy?” Junior asked as Crystal turned to head down the short hallway into the spacious kitchen while Tucker carried Junior behind her.

He placed their son on the marble island and took a seat on one of the black stools while Crystal headed to the fridge. Everyone ignored the table sitting only a few feet away from the island in the middle of the room, the deep red tablecloth and long candles to be disturbed only for full family meals.

“He’s an adult, he can take care of his own food,” Crystal told Junior.

“Mom’s still mad we got the kitchen all dirty last time we made spaghetti,” Tucker whispered, loud enough for her to hear where she rummaged in the kitchen for the items for grilled cheeses.

“You got tomato sauce on the _ceiling_ ,” Crystal retorted. “And you say you’re an amazing cook.”

“Junior started it,” Tucker replied, which caused another round of protestations from Junior. Crystal simply focused on making the sandwiches while Tucker kept Junior entertained. Her parents stayed out of sight the entire time and Tucker didn’t ask about them.

After lunch, Tucker headed outside with them to help set up decorations. Their backyard possessed a small cement patio where the barbecue stood, with a spacious lawn stretching to a wooden fence behind their back shed. A wooden playground, complete with a small wooden fort that a yellow slide shot down from, iron monkey bars, and a rope swing, sat beside the shed. Large maple trees were scattered along the edges of the lawn, a tire swing hanging from one of the branches of the tallest trees.

Within seconds, sweat began to bead along Crystal’s forehead as the dry August heat beat down on their bodies. Tucker simply glanced once at the sun and then moved onto the tasks, but Crystal headed back inside to grab her sunglasses and sunscreen before returning to the backyard once more. She grabbed a blue baseball hat for Junior at the same time, plopping it firmly on his head even when he squirmed.

Junior stayed with Crystal and Tucker to help hang streamers and superhero cut-outs all along the outside walls of the house for about five minutes before he wandered off to the swing. Tucker and Crystal worked mostly in a comfortable silence they had managed to cultivate after years of a friendship necessitated by their son.

“When’s Craig coming?” Tucker asked when they were halfway through. Her dad came out of the house only a moment before, offering Tucker a grunt in greeting and then heading to the lawn to set up the tables.

“I broke up with him,” Crystal said, glancing over at Tucker who gaped at her in response.

“Oh shit, seriously?” He looked over at where Junior remained content on the swing and then looked back to her. “Did you already tell me that?”

Crystal fell quiet in contemplation. The two of them always kept each other updated on any matter to do with Junior, but the other personal bits of information they shared with each other were far less consistent. Not that her phone lacked long text message conversations with Tucker about other subjects, but they weren’t the first person they would go crying to when something outside Junior upset them.

“I don’t think so,” she finally said. “It happened last week.”

“Since you don’t seem that upset, I’m gonna go ahead and guess you broke up with him,” Tucker said, amusement running through his voice.

“Yeah,” Crystal replied. She taped up another stand of blue streamer and then let her gaze move back to Tucker. His hands were paused were they held a cut out of Wasp against the white brick, and he just gave her a smile when she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Glad to see you’re as unconcerned about this shit as always.”

She shrugged in response.

“I mean, I’ve been with guys longer than him. And I just didn’t like him like that anymore.”

Tucker shook his head at her.

“You make it sound so easy.”

She frowned.

“It’s not easy but it’s not exactly hard.”

That made him smile again, and she glanced at him once more. A question about his own love life and the new people Junior had been mentioning for a while hovered on the tip of her tongue, but Junior’s return stole both of their attention before she could voice her question.

The first of Junior’s friends arrived ten minutes before two in the afternoon. All of the neighbourhood children had been invited as well as several of Junior’s classmates. Each of them placed a present on a wooden table by the right side fence, another table beside it covered with the baked goods. A plastic, yellow tablecloth draped over the tables’ edges, brushing the top of the coolers that rested at the table legs.

Crystal followed her son from friend to friend to greet them and their parents. Six years of experience and Junior’s presence kept her from feeling intimidated by all the other parents who were so much older than she and Tucker. Maybe she didn’t have a university degree yet like them and maybe she made one stupid mistake, but she knew she wasn’t a stupid person.

And she had an adoring son who would vouch for that.

Tucker trailed alongside them, managing to keep most of the brittleness out of his smile when someone commented on their young age or asked too many questions about what he expected from his future. Her parents didn’t help him much, though they maintained a veneer of politeness during most of their interactions, especially after they received a glare from her.

Church and Texas showed up at half past two when Junior was surrounded by a swarm of excited children. Crystal left the children to their fun to get drinks for everyone, dragging Tucker along by the elbow to help her. The noise of the back gate opening and Church’s loud voice caused both of them to look up from the cooler, Tucker grinning the second he caught a glimpse of his friends.

The pair headed over to them at Tucker’s wave, Crystal not at all surprised by the shadow of a scowl on Church’s face when he greeted her. She pasted on a polite smile for her son’s sake, the expression melting into a slightly more genuine one when she looked at the amused Texas.

“The kid having fun?” Texas asked as Tucker poked fun at Church for a text message sent that morning.

“Looks like it,” she said with a smile in Junior’s direction. He and the other children were grabbing at the cupcakes slathered with green icing while some adults stood by with beers in hands.

“He’ll be happy to see you guys,” Crystal forced herself to say a moment later. Texas nodded and the couple glanced at each other briefly before heading over to the swarm of children.

“Just remember,” Tucker told Crystal, offering her shoulder a brief squeeze as his friends wandered out of earshot. “Junior would be upset if you punched Church. But if you wanted to throw a cupcake in his face, I don’t think any of us would stop you.”

“I don’t like violence,” Crystal reminded him.

“And yet Tex still kinda likes you,” Tucker said, shaking his head as they watched Junior grin at Church and Texas. They spoke with him for a brief moment and then carried their present over to the table with the others.

More of Tucker’s friends continued to show up over the course of the next half hour, none of Crystal’s friends able to come due to other obligations. Even those friends of Tucker that Crystal didn’t like received a smile from her, purely because her son _did_ like them. He gave all of them adoring smiles and slapped their hands eagerly for high-fives when offered. Each of them brought a present for the kid, though even that wouldn’t stop her parents from giving them all dirty looks once and awhile.

Her mother was just starting up the barbecue when the final friend of Tucker’s arrived. Crystal stood at the corner of the food table with Junior, helping him pick out a juice box from the cooler while the other children kicked around a soccer ball near the far back of the yard. Junior glanced up and over at the gate for only a moment, and suddenly any matter to do with the juice was forgotten.

Junior’s hand wrapped around her wrist in an instant and he started to pull her away before she had even looked away from the cooler. She resisted only for a moment despite his pleas, but when she spotted Tucker talking with someone at the gate she didn’t recognize, she let herself be pulled along by her son.

“Hey, Junior,” the new man said when they reached him, smiling down at her son who grinned back. “Happy birthday!”

“This is Wash,” Tucker told Crystal with a grin, and the familiar name increased Crystal’s interest tenfold. “Wash, this is Junior’s mom, Crunchbite.”

“What?” Wash asked at the same time Crystal rolled her eyes. She gave Wash a smile even as she did her best to study every inch of him in three seconds, from the tips of his blond hair to his tired eyes to the broad shoulders constrained by a grey t-shirt and down to the black sneakers on his feet.

“It’s a nickname,” Crystal said, Tucker’s grin growing even wider when she shot him a look.

“It’s cuz Mommy takes such big bites of cookies,” Junior explained eagerly, holding his arms out wide to demonstrate how large her bites were. Crystal ruffled her son’s hair, the boy having easily accepted the fake explanation when Tucker first created it. It figured despite how drunk they had both been, Tucker would still somehow remember how much she’d like biting at his lip while making out with him. 

“My name’s Crystal,” Crystal said, and held out her hand to Wash. Tucker started whispering in his ear as Wash shook her hand, telling him the real reason for the nickname judging by the way Wash’s pale face went red within seconds.

“That’s what I thought it was,” Wash said, and offered her a smile after glaring at the still grinning Tucker. “How’s the party so far?”

He looked down at her happy son at the question and Junior instantly began to babble about all the fun things they had done so far and all the fun things they were going to do later. Crystal watched her son’s animated face as he talked, but she kept glancing up at Wash as she remembered all the things Junior had eagerly told her about him over the past several months.

“Have you guys opened presents yet?” Wash asked after a while, glancing at all three of them.

“Nah, don’t worry, dude, we’re all good,” Tucker assured him, and exchanged a look with Crystal. “But we could probably do them now. What do you think, Junior? You wanna open all those awesome looking presents?”

“Yeah!” Junior cheered, and all of the adults smiled.

Crystal and Tucker started to herd everyone over to the presents’ table, enlisting the help of all of their friends in corralling the children while her parents continued to prepare dinner. Junior sat on a small, red plastic chair as the others spread out on the grass in front of him, each of them shouting for Junior to choose their present next. Crystal made sure her son thanked everyone and he complied easily enough.

Her present followed by Tucker’s were the last ones to be given. Crystal carefully withdrew a large, wrapped object from underneath the table and placed it at her son’s feet. Junior quickly climbed off his chair to kneel in front of her present as everyone else whispered about the odd shape of the present, covered shapes jutting out from the base of it. With a nod from Crystal, Junior tore into the green wrapping paper, confusion twisting his small face as more of the wrapping paper fell away.

“What’s this one look like, Junior?” Crystal whispered once the object was completely revealed, drawing her son’s gaze to a painted tower that stood in the middle of the miniature, wooden city. Junior bent closer to the tower, and his whole face brightened when he caught sight of the large ‘A’ along the top side of the building.

“It’s the Avengers Tower!” he declared, and all of the children’s expressions went from puzzled to excited in a second.

“You built him fucking New York,” Tucker said in disbelief, her parents glaring at him at the curse word. She simply grinned up at him and all of the shocked adults staring down at the wooden buildings and roads of New York City she’d spent weeks carving and painting.

“Oh my god, I want to play with the mini people!” she heard Caboose exclaim, followed by Church saying,

“It’s not your birthday, Caboose!”

Crystal only felt her pride grow at the conversations around her, but she shifted her attention back to Junior who was carefully examining the present from the tops of each building down to the street signs. She pointed out another building for him, this time a small house crammed into a residential area. On the top of the building was a painting of Spiderman’s mask.

“Spiderman’s house,” Junior shouted, and nearly fell right into the city in his eagerness to look closer at the house.

“That’s right. Now you have a city for all your action figures to play in.”

“How much sleep did you have to sacrifice for this?” Grif muttered, and Simmons elbowed him in the side as Junior threw his arms around Crystal’s neck.

“Thank you, Mommy!”

“Okay, I definitely didn’t make mine by hand,” Tucker said after Crystal hugged Junior back and their son released her. “But do you still want the present from Wash and me?”

“Yeah!” Junior said right away, and Tucker laughed.

“Alright, come on then, ours is by the gate.”

Junior climbed to his feet and followed his father over to the gate without any complaints. Crystal and the other children trailed behind him, her thoughts still stuck on Tucker’s casual use of the word “ours.”

Tucker disappeared behind the gate for a moment and when he opened it again, he carried a bright blue bicycle into the backyard with him.

“Happy birthday,” Tucker told him with a grin as Junior gaped. Along the outskirts of the crowd, Sarge gave a low whistle and Crystal saw Church muttering something that made Texas grin.

Junior hesitated for only a second before grabbing at the black handle bars and beaming up at his dad. The other children crowded around with loud comments and after a nudge from Tucker, Wash cleared his throat and stepped toward Junior.

“Happy birthday,” Wash said, and handed Junior a helmet covered with the image of the Hulk. Junior took it with a look of reverence on his small face and then he offered Wash a smile just as bright as the one he often gave Tucker and Crystal.

“Careful, Wash, kid’s never gonna leave your side after this,” Grif called with a grin at the same time Donut clapped his hands together and declared,

“That was so sweet of you guys!”

The other children called for Junior’s attention within seconds, but before they could try and convince Tucker to let Junior ride the bike down the street, Crystal’s mother announced dinner was ready. Everyone scrambled to get in line for the food, all of the adults occupied with handing out condiments and helping the children for a few minutes. Once Junior had a hamburger and a tower of chips on his plastic plate, he and a couple of his friends bounced over to Wash where he stood with his plate by Caboose and Texas.

Crystal watched the trio for a moment before grabbing her own food and then moving to stand beside Tucker where he lounged along the side fence with his food.

“Something you want to tell me, Tucker?” Crystal asked after a moment of silence between them. He blinked and looked away from Junior and Wash, grin faltering in the face of her question.

“Uh, no?” he said, and she turned to meet his gaze directly.

“Nothing about you and Wash?”

Tucker stiffened and glanced over at the man smiling at their son before taking Crystal’s arm and moving them to the empty cement patio where nowhere would overhear them.

“There’s nothing going on,” Tucker insisted, turning so they faced each other.

“You bought him a bicycle together. His _first_ bicycle.”

“So?”

“So that’s what couples do.” Tucker opened his mouth and Crystal quickly cut him off. “And don’t you dare try and say ‘well so do we’ because we’re his _parents_.”

Tucker closed his mouth for a second and then jutted out his chin in a familiar, stubborn gesture.

“Friends can buy joint presents.”

“Of course,” Crystal agreed. “But you guys aren’t friends, are you?”

“We’re not together,” Tucker finally replied, but Crystal heard the hopeful _yet_ echoing in the air between them. So Crystal let the matter drop for a moment and turned with Tucker to study Wash once more as he spoke softly to an eager Junior.

“He good for Junior?” Crystal asked. Maybe Tucker couldn’t be trusted to tell her a lot about his own personal life, but he would never lie about someone’s treatment of Junior, a point she constantly reminded her parents of.

“Yeah,” Tucker said instantly, helpless smile tugging at his lips. “He’s good for a lot of people.”

Wash looked over a second after the words left Tucker’s lips, and Crystal watched Wash’s gaze glance off everyone before honing in on Tucker. She watched the way Wash’s entire body relaxed the moment he locked onto Tucker, and the smile on his face seemed easier when he turned away again.

“Looks like it goes both ways,” Crystal commented, and Tucker glanced over at her briefly.

“You going into couple’s therapy now or something?”

“I’m a carpenter, not a lover,” she snorted, and he grinned at her. “And you’d owe me twenty bucks if this was therapy.”

“What the hell kind of rip-off is that?”

“I should be charging double for you.”

After a few more minutes of bickering, they both returned to their son and Crystal left the subject alone for the rest of the party.   

***

**Saturday, August 25 th, 260 Days After Epsilon’s Death **

Wash woke up slowly that morning. Awareness came to him bit by bit, one sense at time. First came sound, Church and Tex’s voices tickling his ears alongside Junior’s giggling and excited questions. Then the warmth of the blanket pulled up to his shoulders and the sensation of the cotton fabric against his fingers curled by the side of his face. The side of his face pressing into the old pillow as his arm began to cramp. He became aware of the smell of coffee and toast drifting through the air a few seconds later, and simultaneously realized how dry his mouth was.   

Wash’s vision remained dark as he kept his eyes closed, content for a long moment to simply listen and feel while the grogginess of sleep faded away. He couldn’t make out the words spilling from the others’ mouths where they must have stood in the kitchen, but the incoherent syllables provided a comfort on their own. Tex’s genuine laughter chased after the indistinct words, a sound Wash had grown more and more accustomed to hearing in the past few months as he once more spent a couple days of the week hanging out with Tucker.

After a few more minutes, Wash pried open his eyes, gaze falling on the blank TV screen in the dim light. He stayed still for a while longer, relishing in the feeling of peace and safety that settled over him as it did whenever he awoke in Tucker’s apartment or woke with Tucker at his own home. The realization that no nightmares plagued his sleep the night before only made breathing even easier.  

Wash shifted onto his back and the couch creaked beneath him. The conversation in the other room didn’t still, but footsteps crept closer to the main room.

“Oi, Sleeping Beauty.”

Wash carefully craned his head back at the sound of Church’s voice. The man took a couple steps into the main room, still in the blue boxers and grey t-shirt he wore to bed the night before. Yet another thing Wash had grown accustomed to seeing after the past couple months, for nobody in Tucker and Church’s apartment put on normal clothes before one in the afternoon on the weekends.

“Go wake up Tucker before his kid decides to jump on his head,” Church said, keeping his voice low but insistent.

Wash rolled his eyes even though he had both witnessed and experienced Junior’s method of leaping onto peoples’ bodies in order to wake them up. Church just smirked at him and then disappeared back into the kitchen.

Wash complied with the request a few seconds later, pushing off the blankets and stretching his arms above his head with a quiet groan. Outside the apartment the August heat would already be burning skin and slamming against the pavement, but inside the apartment the AC continued to hum away as Wash rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

With some more squeaking on the couch’s part, Wash swung his legs over the edge and then climbed to his feet. He pushed open the door to Tucker’s bedroom without a word and stepped inside without glancing toward the kitchen.

The bedroom stayed quiet except for the faint sound of the fan even once Wash flicked on the lights. Wash moved closer to Tucker’s bed as the human lump underneath the covers didn’t even stir. Once he stood directly beside the head of the bed, he could see Tucker’s face where it poked out from beneath the thin sheets. He lay on his stomach with his sleeping face turned toward Wash and one arm bent by his head.

“Tucker,” Wash said loudly despite the strange sensation building in his chest at the sight of Tucker’s softened expression. “Church is going to give Junior coffee if you don’t get up soon.”

“Five more minutes,” Tucker mumbled after a low moan, and Wash laughed even as his throat tightened.

“You’ve got about two.”

Tucker made another wordless noise of protest, shoving his face into the pillow briefly. When he turned his face back toward Wash and started to drag himself from sleep, Wash realized the sentiments starting to swirl through him were ones he’d felt before.

They were terrifyingly similar to those that overwhelmed him the morning after Tucker nearly drowned, when Wash woke up before Tucker and found emotion choking him as he stared down at Tucker’s sleeping face. There were differences shaped by all the memories layered on top of each other since that morning but just like the time before, the affection stole all the air from his lungs.

Tucker opened his eyes and blinked up at Wash with a yawn. Like a stone plopping into a pond and sending ripples to every shore, the sentiment spread through every part of Wash until even the smallest nerves in his fingers were overflowing with affection for the person slowly stirring to consciousness in front of him.

The simple reason behind a thousand soft smiles, comforting touches, and moments of euphoric laughter finally burst into Wash’s conscious awareness. Finally he understood why loneliness gnawed at his insides when he separated from Tucker, why he possessed the unvoiced desire to see Tucker as much as possible, and the why simply being near him made breathing easier.

Bits of panic clawed at Wash’s throat just as panic had the morning after Tucker nearly drowned, but Wash wasn’t the same as he had been right after Epsilon’s death or even months after. He stayed standing just as he was, refusing to simply shut down in the face of the unconscious knowledge turned conscious.

“Wash?” Tucker asked when Wash kept staring at him silently. Sleep still weighed down Tucker’s voice and tempered his smile with a gentleness that made Wash’s shrieking thoughts screech to a sudden halt.

Without a sound, Wash lifted one hand and cupped the side of Tucker’s face, fingers brushing against his dreads. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Tucker’s.

Tucker’s lips were dry against his and the contact made Wash’s affection turned into an explosion, bits of shrapnel digging into every nerve, organ, and blood vessel inside him. The longer the kiss went, the harder the removal would be without tearing away essential pieces of Wash, but he didn’t pull away. Instead his fingers pressed harder against Tucker’s skull as Tucker kissed back with a hesitation that Wash never would have expected from him. Neither of them attempted to deepen the kiss and Wash was the one to pull back first.

The instant the kiss ended though, doubt rushed to fill all the quiet spaces the kiss created. Doubt twisted into panic within seconds and the blood rushing through him suffocated Wash as Tucker stared at him with wide eyes.

“I–” Wash croaked out, and took a step back. Tucker’s hand snaked out and wrapped tightly around Wash’s wrist before he could get any further away. Despite the anxiety starting to claw at Wash’s insides, he found he couldn’t look away from Tucker’s serious gaze.

“Did you mean it?” Tucker asked, voice breathless in a way Wash had never heard before. “That kiss–did you do it on purpose?”

“I–” He didn’t understand why telling the truth suddenly seemed a terrifying prospect when he had already acted on it, but Wash forced the words out. The very least Tucker deserved after everything that happened between them was the truth. “Yes.”

“You meant to kiss me?”

“Of course, what–”

“Why?” Tucker interrupted. He still sprawled across the bed with his elbow keeping him half upright. “Cuz if you–it’s just that before this goes any further, I–you shouldn’t be doing this just cuz you want comfort. It’s not really healthy and I’m fine with being a support without that so–”

“No,” Wash cut him off, heart determined to pound its way right out of his chest. “That’s not why I kissed you. I mean you do comfort me but that’s not–I kissed you because that’s what I wanted because–”

Every part of him felt too hot and he knew he must look like a blushing mess, but a grin was slowly spreading across Tucker’s face and soaking his whole face in joy.

“Dude,” Tucker said slowly, as if struggling to believe the reality of the moment stretching between them. “Are you trying to say you want to date me?”

Tucker pushed himself into a full sitting position and the movement gave Wash confidence for his next reply.

“Yes.”

“Because?” Tucker pressed. Wash gave him an exasperated look but that only made Tucker’s grin widen.  

“Really?”

“Hey, I’m just making sure.” Wash wanted to roll his eyes but found he couldn’t at the sight of happiness dancing in Tucker’s eyes.

“Because I like you,” Wash said before Tucker could say anything more. “A lot.”

The word ‘love’ nearly tumbled out instead, and Wash’s cheeks grew even hotter as he caught his near slip. After so many months the word fit too well, but even Wash knew not to say something like that immediately after first admitting to wanting to date someone.

“Good,” Tucker said, and tugged Wash closer again. “Cuz I might be a little bit in love with you.”

On second thought, maybe Wash wasn’t the only one who had been waiting for such a moment for a long time.

“Only a bit?” Wash teased despite the way those words echoed endlessly in his mind and filled his lungs with a heavy delight.

“Yeah, dude, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re kinda a dorky asshole.”

“And who’s the one who _fell_ for the dorky asshole?” Wash asked, and Tucker rolled his eyes. Rather than reply verbally, he simply gave Wash’s wrist another sharp tug and tilted his face up. Wash didn’t need any further invitation, closing the distance between them to kiss Tucker once more.

“Jesus Christ, are you two writing a fucking novel in here or–holy shit.”

Both them jerked apart at the loud sound of Church’s voice. Tucker didn’t release Wash though, and they both turned around to where Church gaped at them in the bedroom doorway. Tucker scowled at Church as the disbelief on his face slowly morphed into a smirk.

“About fucking time,” Church said, and shouted over his shoulder a second later. “Hey, Tex, guess who I just caught sucking face?”

A pause followed his words as Wash briefly closed his eyes, and then they all heard Tex swearing from the other room. She appeared at Church’s shoulder in the next moment, the glare she settled on Tucker petrifying in its promise of violence.

“You couldn’t have just waited one more fucking week, Tucker?” she demanded.

“Wash kissed _me_!” Tucker protested, and then suspicious awareness overtook his instinctive defensiveness. “Wait, why the fuck does that matter?”

“Cuz she would have won the bet that way,” Church said, Tex turning to glare at her boyfriend at the glee in his voice.

“You didn’t win either,” she reminded him, and a horrifying realization dawned on Wash.

“You took _bets_ on when we were going to get together?” he screeched, and not a hint of apology could be found in Church’s expression. Church opened his mouth but another realization took control of Wash’s vocal cords. “I am going to _murder_ the twins.”

“Ten bucks says South will see you coming before you even get to the same building,” Tex said with a smirk. Church laughed and then started moving into the main room. The bed creaked as Tucker shifted and began climbing off at his roommate’s actions.

“What are you doing?” he called to Church.

“Letting South know what happened so she can declare the winner. Pretty sure Connie and fucking C won this one.”

In the time it took Wash to blink, Tucker let go of him and charged at Church. He shouted as he went, and Church quickly sprinted toward the couch with Tucker hot on his heels. The two circled endlessly around the couch as Tucker shouted at his roommate, Tex laughing and Wash coming to stand beside her in the main room.

Junior appeared with a cup dangling from his fingers at all the loud noises. He stared at his father chasing Church around the couch for only a few seconds before he giggled and gave his cup to Tex. Then he started to join the two in their running, shrieking and laughing as he went.

“Alright, get him, Junior!” Tucker called as Church rounded the opposite corner of the couch once more. Junior changed his direction quickly and launched himself at Church’s legs. Church cursed as Junior wrapped both his arms and legs around Church’s lower body, Tucker grinning in triumph as Junior laughed.

Tex shook her head with a smile as Church tried to hop away from Tucker with Junior still holding on. For a long moment Wash could only watch the ridiculous scene unfold around him, everyone’s unabashed displays of joy crashing upon his shoulders and tugging at his own lips until he found himself smiling helplessly. Any remaining worries about the vulnerability his confession forced into the open and possible rejection finally faded into nothing after a few more minutes ticked by.

Still smiling, Wash slowly withdrew his phone from his pocket and took a picture.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what I imagine the video Emily took of Doyle on their kayaking trip looked like: http://fuks.tumblr.com/post/122803943155/help-him)
> 
> Here is the playlist I made that is the songs Wash put on the CD he made for Tucker: http://8tracks.com/gracerr2/hot-blooded
> 
> Fun sidenote, Tucker and Wash kissed three days before Wash's birthday in this fic verse.
> 
> Wow. I'm still finding it hard to believe that this is the last chapter, and that it's the last chapter of what has turned into a massive fic I hadn't initially intended to write. This simply started out as a fun way to make me feel better about my own job by imagining these ridiculous characters engaging in it. I never imagined it would become what it has or that so many people would be so interested in it. You have all been the best readership I could have ever asked for and I want to thank all of you so much for all of your kudos, comments, stunning art, and general support. Every interaction I've had with all of you has made me smile and made that day a little brighter. And I hope that this story was able to do the same for all of you (despite the death and other sad moments that were found in it). 
> 
> I am going to leave this fic verse uncompleted for now because I MIGHT be posting an additional post-main story fic (only one chapter though) over the Christmas break if I have time/the ideas. If you do have any other questions about this universe or your headcanons I am always happy to talk, and my askbox on Tumblr is always open for anything. 
> 
> But otherwise, thank you so much once again. If I don't reply to all the comments individually this time, please know I have read them and I appreciate each and every one of you <3

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Everyone should go say hi to my very talented beta who helped me brainstorm so many of these ideas, and whose art inspired me to actually put those ideas into fic form. Her art blog is http://woahmako.tumblr.com/
> 
> The focus in terms of relationships will be Tuckington but I do have drabbles about the different Freelancers as lifeguards and their privates, as well as the other relationships. I don't know yet all the characters I'll include so I'll be adding that to the tags as I go. 
> 
> The slide at a pool in my town is purple and called “the Grapevine” so you can blame that (and the Freelancers’ lack of creativity” for the horrible slide name. Unfortunately, I am just as horrible with names, so I apologize for the title.


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